Different View 2
by Tensleep
Summary: Well, what can I say? Pepsi's story isn't done yet.
1. Prologue

Prologue

"Mr. Curtis. You have seen the evidence presented before this court. Do you wish to change you plea?"

I glanced up at the judge and I wanted to gape at him, but I didn't let the carefully placed mask of indifference slip. Of course I wasn't going to change my plea; that was the stupidest question I had ever been asked. What they really meant was:_'Do you want to admit you've been lying for the last few hours? Because if you do, we'll not only make you wish you had never been born for wasting our time, but we'll also make sure that everyone knows it, too...'_ I may have been dumb enough to get myself into this situation, but I was dumb enough to fall into their trap. I'd told the truth so far and I was going to stick with it. I figured I was better off at this point if I stood my ground, anyways. The judge was fair from what I had heard in the holding cells, but he liked to make deals. So whatever happened would happen fairly until the sentence was handed down.

"No, Sir," I answered "I'd like to uphold my original plea of not guilty on the grounds of self defense."

"Curtis!" My lawyer hissed "Take the guilty plea while you can! The Prosecutor - yeah that guy over there - he wants to put you away for murder one. You need to take this!"

I paid him no mind. The bastard had been trying to force me into pleading guilty for days now. I knew for a fact I had been in more courtrooms than he had and I had told him flat out that I knew more about the law than he did, too. So he had pretty well given up trying to talk to me and my case was going better than it would have with him involved, anyways. I knew if I stuck to what I knew was the truth, everything would come out fine.

I touched the back of my head, feeling where the goose egg had been. The truth as I knew it was pretty damn foggy. I didn't feel like I had killed anyone, but it served that bastard right if I had. They had jumped me, after all. Five on one and I hadn't been looking for a fight. From what the doctor had told me, I got beat pretty badly before I was eventually knocked unconscious. Then they dragged me to the Fuzz and told them I was a killer. I wasn't about to let that go.

"Then this court finds the defendant, Mr. Pepsi-cola Shawn Curtis, guilty on the lesser charge of manslaughter."

I let out a low breath of air. It was the best that I could hope for.

"This court also believes that there was more than meets the eye about this case." The judge looked thoughtful "I normally wouldn't offer this to a charge like this, but I think this unique situation deserves special considerations."

The judge looked me over and I knew fairness was about to be thrown out the window.

"The US government has given me the power to offer you a bargain. You're looking at five years before a chance for parole and the way that boy's Daddy has been acting, well, I wouldn't hold my breath," the judge said and I nodded

"Your Honor, that comment was completely out of line-" The prosecutor started

"I'll allow it." He smiled to himself as the pencil necked prosecutor sat back down "As I was saying, The US government has authorized me to inform you that you are eligible to avoid jail time. All that is required of you is 13 months of service."

"Vietnam," I summed up for him "I know all about it, Sir."

I did know all about it. Tim Shepard was caught with a shit load of Marijuana and cocaine two months ago. He was offered the same bargain the Judge was taking his time with: Jail or Nam. Anyone who knows Tim knows that he took the bargain as soon as the words were out of the Judge's mouth. He hates being locked up as much as Dallas did. I didn't hate it like they did, but five years scared the hell out of me, too. If all I had to do was live rough and get shot at for just over a year, well, it would be like living with the River Kings or the Tibber Street Tigers. I could stand that, at least.

"Good. Then you'll already know that you can serve 13 months with the Marines or upwards of five years in Jail. The choice is yours, Son."

I wanted to twist my head and see what Darry, Soda and Ponyboy thought, but they hadn't come. I'd written to them a couple days ago from my cell, but they hadn't even sent word back. If I had to bet, I would have guessed that they never got it because I knew I hadn't messed up bad enough to have them abandon me. Well, not lately, anyway. That meant I was on my own. I never did well on my own.

"Don't be shy now, boy," the judge taunted and I really wanted to cuss him out.

I looked him right in the eye, not liking the little smirk on his face. I knew I was going to regret it at some point, but I opened my mouth anyways.

"I'll make you another bargain, Judge."

"Curtis!" my lawyer hissed again "Just go to jail!"

"I'm listening, Son." The Judge nodded at me to go on

"I'll serve 16 months, but only if you let me join the regular Army."

The judge leaned back in his chair looking interested. He was fingering his gabble by this time and I wondered if he thought it made him look sinister or something. It made him look like a faggot, but I wasn't about to say that to him. So I waited for his answer, looking right at him and ignoring the way my neck was burning.

"Why the Army, Son?" he sounded interested.

"Because the Marines can't fight worth shit."

/-/-/-/-/-/

Any comments at all are welcome and flames are accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!

Tens


	2. Homecoming

Now, you all didn't think I am evil enough to leave you with just a prologue, did you? Well, I am, so good thinkig that, but not this morning. Happy New Year to all and lets get it started the right way! Oh, and I should mention there's a fair bit of swearing. So don't like, don't read.

Disclaimer: I only own the character of Pepsi-cola and his aquatiances. S.E. Hinton owns the Outsiders and Gayle Rivers/James Hudson own the ideas in the book 'The Five Fingers' where a lot of the refrences came from. So big thankies to them.

Dedication: To my own twin.

_On with the show..._

Chapter 1: Homecoming

"You sure you want to be let off here, Curtis?"

"Yeah, Lou. I'm sure," I answered opening the door of the pickup truck "Listen, thanks. For everything."

"Hell, man. You don't have to thank me," Lou answered shrugging "Just promise me you'll drop in if you're ever up Independence way. The Missus will shore like to meet ya."

"I'll remember that. If you ever get back down here again, you do the same."

Lou reached out his hand and I shook it. I had been preparing myself for it all night, hell since we got stateside, as we drove from Houston to Tulsa in his brother's old beat up truck. It was going to be tough saying goodbye to good old Lou. I had invited him to stay in Tulsa, at least for the night, but he was anxious to get up to Independence. I didn't ask why and he didn't offer. Just like he didn't ask me why I wanted to get out on the outskirts of the city. There wasn't anything in sight for a few miles, but he'd stopped anyways, not asking. It was a good way to be.

"Got another favor to ask, Curtis. Don't let yerself get jumped on the way home by some Coyote lookin' for an easy meal."

"I won't. Stay safe, Lou."

I stepped out into the darkness with that final word and waved after Lou as he sped down the highway. After my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, I readjusted my pack and started towards Tulsa. I was only three miles out, but it seemed a lot closer. I didn't know if I was nervous or if I was excited, but the thought of home made my stomach do flips. I shivered against a gust of wind and pulled my jacket closer around my shoulders and picked up my pace slightly.

I didn't know what I was expecting when I finally saw it, but I stopped and took a good long look. It was Tulsa...Good old Tulsa. I let out a breath I hadn't known I had been holding. It was the same and it was welcoming. It was still home. I had to smile to myself. Sure, I'd left it only to find myself in the middle of something huge and overpowering, but there was something to bring me around again. There wasn't much to it and I had seen bigger places, but there was something it had that no other place in the world did. Now, if I could only put my finger on it. Mostly it was how everything lit up in the dark. It was brighter than anything I had seen since I left. I hadn't been gone that long, but it felt like a lifetime had passed me by. Tulsa was still here, reminding me it was far from a lifetime. Everything still lit up the same after sundown. The diner, The Dingo, Jay's, The DX…Nothing had changed, 'cept maybe me.

I wondered suddenly what it would be like to go by just Pepsi-cola Curtis again. It had been Curtis, Private Curtis to the military brass I liked to piss off, for so long now that I could have forgotten my name was Pepsi-cola all together. I know, I'm the last person who would join up on anything like the army, but I wasn't going to let myself get into that. I'd made my choice and I would have to live with it.

I sighed, feeling the air sigh with me, like it knew all that had happened with me since the trial. I was shipped out to an army base in Texas a few days after the courtroom scene. They'd kept me waiting until that rich Daddy, the one who would have liked to see me rot in jail, showed up outside my cell. He told me he hoped I died over there. Well, I hated to disappoint, but it was something I just couldn't do. I wasn't a coward and I wasn't clumsy enough to get myself shot. Hell, I was just plain lucky. So, I did what came naturally. I'd told him to go and fuck himself. I'd bet everything I had that he hadn't disappointed me.

We went into training for a couple weeks and I'd been fighting since I could walk, so they made me a squadron leader. Congratulations Pepsi-cola, you've gotten even deeper into the system. With that thought in mind I started being the worst draftee you ever saw. Then they bump me to Private. It was the most ass backward system in the world. I tried to get out and they pulled me in even deeper. Well, conforming was out of the question so I kept on with pissing off the brass. They got the last laugh there.

'_Report to room 40B at 0600…' _Those words were the beginning of the end. I got mixed up in a mission that…well, that was one mission I wanted to put behind me. I finally got sent home 18 months after I was charged with manslaughter. That was after a pretty violent fight on the Nam Pa River. Those assholes should have asked me on for another tour- discharging me after my tour was up was almost painful for them, I'm sure- but they didn't. That was only the beginning. I was shipped out on the next flight with Lou. We where the only ones on the plane, if you didn't count the coffins...

I shuddered at the thought of them. I'd seen Vietnam, all right. 18 months were hell enough. I hated taking orders and I'd missed home. I guess I was lucky to get out when I did. I would have done something stupid after a while and landed myself in a prison camp or one of those pine boxes. That's what happened to a lot of guys who were due to come home. They got too cautious and they got killed. I was glad I hadn't known when I was done. Two months leeway would have seen me dead, surely.

I turned down a road in the Soc end of town and kept my stare forward. I didn't bother looking around until I had crossed through their territory and into the middle class houses. It was funny how I still feltout of place, even though the places where closer to what I had grown up in. It was houses all together that had me feeling out of place. I was used to bamboo shacks, tunnels, military bases, the open jungle...I definitely needed some time to think about what had happened and what I wanted to do now. I guess that's why I was back home. Maybe I'd stick around for a while and see how that went. The world wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. I had time. Now I was starting to sound like Darry! Was he ever going to be pissed…When I left, I never got the chance to tell him where I was going or if I'd be back or anything. In the long run I think that was best. I never handled goodbyes well and saying goodbye to Darry, Soda and Ponyboy would have been too much, not to mention Lily. I'd sent along the court order so they wouldn't worry. At least they knew I was going somewhere and wasn't dead in some alley. Now I was turning up on the doorstep with dog tags still around my neck. This was going to be an interesting welcome home to say the least. I was looking forward to seeing all of them, but would they want me back after all I'd put them through? I shook that thought from my head. I'd done worse and they'd accepted me. This time couldn't go different. I wouldn't allow it.

I walked down the familiar darkened streets just taking it all in to keep myself from thinking. Dally and I had got hauled on the main street twice for fighting and once for being under the influence. Next street over was the telephone pole Curly Shepard climbed and fell off of and the street after that was the High School and after that would be the DX than after that a-ways would finally be home. Like I said, things didn't change.

It was nearly midnight by the time I even got into the neighborhood, but I didn't mind. I had always preferred it better in the dark. I guess it wasn't so obvious we lived on the wrong side of the tracks or something. Hopefully I would be able to sneak in, if Darry still had 'the door's always unlocked' policy. I didn't feel like waking up anyone by crawling through a window or ringing the doorbell, not at this time of night. All I wanted to do was go to sleep. It had been a rough couple of days. I was never hitching a ride home again. It left me too much time to think and it took too much energy. First thing in the morning I would borrow the T-bird from Buck. That is to say if he even still had it. Knowing him, he probably managed to crash it sometime ago when he was too drunk to be going on one of his own beer runs. I just shook my head. I would find some wheels.

When I finally got home, I stared at it for a minute. It was closer to five minutes, but I hadn't seen the place in over a year. I liked the thought of eighteen months better; it didn't carry as much weight as a year. A year and a half was too long, but eighteen months didn't seem that way, even though it was longer...

"Pepsi-cola, you're just being a coward. Open the door," I told myself "What's the worst that could happen?"

_"The whole house could cave in 'cause the door was holding it up," _

I sighed. Ponyboy was supposed to be the one with the active imagination. I flipped off the little voice in my head and finally got my courage up enough to try the door. I smiled when it opened under my hand and the house didn't topple over. Just goes to show what a waste an imagination is.

I was tempted to turn on a light when I walked in, but from the sound of the muffled snores from the living room someone had made the couch their bed. I only sighed and went down the hall. The light was off, so Darry was home unless someone had changed the routine.

The first door was Soda's. I poked my head in and smiled. Soda wasn't in there, but the place smelled like Soda and the room was messy as ever. Even in the dark, I could tell he acted like the same old Sodapop. I closed it behind me and made my way down to my old room knowing I would wake Darry if I looked in on him. I knew he would be home. There was rarely a night Darry wasn't in before 12, even if he was working. Like I said, some things didn't change.

Ponyboy was on his side of the bed with the covers all on the floor. It was summer, but it wasn't warm enough for that. Maybe I was just used to the jungle because Oklahoma seemed cold, even under the warm noon sun. I supposed I would just have to get used to it, the same way I got used to the heat and the stale water and the blood. The leeches, well...No, I don't think I ever got used to them. I peeled off my shirt and found a scar on my chest where I had dug one out. I was inexperienced and I had mauled myself good. 'Ta think you could just burn the little beasts off...Live an learn.

Ponyboy didn't move when I grabbed one of my old shirts out of the closet and changed for bed. I pulled the blankets up to my chin and just stared at the ceiling. How many times had shit happened and I ended up, just staring at the ceiling? Mom and Dad's funeral, Dally and Johnny, Vietnam…was this some form of punishment? Or was it my reward?

I nearly laughed at myself as I watched the street light make distorted shapes of the ceiling. I had no idea where all of these profound thoughts had come from. Probably one of the only things that had got me through Vietnam was thinking simple. No memories when I had to concentrate, no good times, no thoughts of home. Just math. Fuck, that would make my teachers laugh. _'Pepsi-cola Curtis in the middle of a sticky spot trying to calculate…Pi?'_ Well, let them laugh. It was either that or getting myself shot to hell. I had had that happen anyways, but not as bad as it could have been. I had one of the boy's moms send me his old calculus textbooks. I'd taught myself when I could and had him help me when I couldn't. I'd lost the books when…well; I hoped I would never have to use it ever again.

I thought of the boys then. Rivers, Wiley, Jackson and the rest. It didn't seem fair…but there was nothing I could do about it. I sunk deeper into the bed, feeling comfortable for the first time in weeks. I knew no matter how old I would get, or how far from home I would wander, I would always remember this bed. I fell asleep then, feeling relaxed for the first time in weeks.

----

"…Two-Bit, get your head out of the fridge"

"I'm hungry."

"There's cake on the table"

"No beer to go with it..."

"Deal with it."

"Now, what's the fun in that?"

I groaned and tried to ignore all the voices. It was too early to get up, in my opinion. I rolled over and saw Ponyboy was up and about. The weight of that hit me and I grinned. I was home, people where up and I was still in bed. It didn't get any better than that. Well, maybe it did. I hauled myself out of bed and stretched while Two-Bit laughed at something. I had to grin again. I was home. No matter what the reception would be, I was home. Did I mention I was home? I just couldn't get over that thought. It was a wonderful feeling.

I made my way down the hall, just listening to everything, taking in the house. It was all the same as it always had been. This house didn't change, no matter what happened to the people within it. I thought that was nice and tormenting all at the same time. I sighed and figured it wasn't the house's fault. It hadn't killed them or sent me to war. Everyone was in the kitchen, so I leaned in the doorway and watched them for a minute, just taking them in and getting my courage up.

Darry was wrapped up in the morning paper. He looked tired, but at this time of the morning it wouldn't surprise me. His hair was still the same, his build still the same and his coffee was probably still black as sin. It was nice to know someone had stayed constant.

Two-Bit was a little older, but he generally looked the same, and from what I had heard, he still acted the same. He was grinning even though he had a handful of cake in his mouth.

Ponyboy was sitting at the table and looked to be thinking on something. I couldn't get over how tall he'd gotten. He was seventeen now, had been for a whole month. He was getting a pretty damned good build and was starting to grow into his looks. He was still my baby brother, though. He would always be my baby brother.

I wondered where Soda and Steve where at this time of the morning. If they hadn't been fired by now, they would still have work in an hour. Darry seemed to be reading my mind, even though he didn't know I was even in the room.

"What's taking Soda so long?" He asked

"Shower's running," Ponyboy pointed out

"And Stevie-boy said he was going to meet Soda there this morning," Two-Bit told them "He wanted to stop by and see Evie first. I would skip that before breakfast…"

"Lay off, Two-Bit. They want to get married and then you'll be stuck with her," Darry said, folding his paper

So Steve had asked her to marry him. All I could think was that he was going to have to cut back on his night life, if he wanted to make that one work. I knew Evie to be homebody who liked to go out occasionally, but liked to stay in, more often than not and complain Steve didn't take her out enough. Whoever said chicks where easy to figure out should meet Evie and Lily.

Lily… I missed her like I never thought possible. I never sent her what I wrote her from Nam. I didn't want her to know about what it was like there. I didn't want anyone to know, really. So I wrote letters, but never sent them home. They were for me, to keep me sane and that was all. 'Did send her a post card from base camp once. I don't know if it ever made it as far as Tulsa.

"Didn't know you were out of the shower yet," Darry commented after only glancing up at me

"Haven't had a shower," I answered going to the fridge

There was an apple on one of the shelves that I helped myself to before sitting down. Ponyboy threw me an odd look, but I ignored it. I took a bite and savored it for a moment. You didn't get fresh any thing when you were positioned along the Mekong River, fighting every time you thought you where safe and comfortable, unless you robbed a village. This apple was everything I had wanted since I left rolled into one bite.

Two-Bit was staring at me like he'd seen a ghost and it was starting to creep me out. I don't suppose Ponyboy had noticed I wasn't Soda and told them all I was home. Hell, he might not have noticed I was there at all. Before I could say anything Two-Bit jumped off the counter and closed the space between us. He looked right in my eyes before pulling back and staring at me, again.

"What?" I asked, a little amused

I was shocked when his eyes started to mist. I stood up and he grabbed me in a rough, bear-like hug. I stood there and awkwardly rubbed his back. He was full out sobbing and I looked over at Darry who was gazing at me in some type of shock. I couldn't see Ponyboy, but I could hear sniffling behind me. What the hell was going on? When Two-Bit pulled away, his face was drenched in tears, but he was smiling.

"You're one lucky son of a bitch. Nine fuckin' lives, like a cat," Two-Bit laughed, croakily "Never knew Soda to like apples..."

I turned towards Ponyboy who was sitting in his chair sniffing with Soda's hand on his shoulder. I looked at my twin, praying he would keep it together and explain what was going on. He patted Ponyboy's arm and disappeared down the hall. I looked over at Darry who was fixated with the table, trying to keep it together. Two-Bit had me in a hug again, but he was laughing this time between his sobs. He finally let go of me and Soda was back, standing beside Darry. Darry had a letter in his hands and he looked lost and helpless.

"Would somebody explain what's going on?" I asked opening my arms for Ponyboy, who was crying now

"We got this letter almost four months ago," Darry started quietly and handed it to me.

I knew what it was the moment I took it. The yellow color and the weight of it, but mostly the crases, like it had been read over and over again in disbelief. I knew what it was, alright and it explained everything. I still had to know, though. I read it with one arm still around Ponyboy.

"…We regret to inform you of the loss of Private first class Pepsi-cola Shawn Curtis…blah blah blah…who was killed in action March 21st 1968 along with the rest of his unit…What the fuck are they on about?"

"We got that letter and had a funeral and everything," Soda whispered

Things where starting to piece together even faster and I gripped Ponyboy closer to my chest, hoping to make things better. This was scaring me as much as it had scared them. I sighed, clearing my throat to give them something. My voice was raspy, but it hadn't had much practice for a long time. I guess this was it.

"I must have gotten shuffled somewhere in the Military's paperwork. I went straight home when I got my orders. You'd think that they'd have said something." I shrugged heavily "But this would explain my orders. I was basically packed on a truck with a bunch of crates and shipped home on the first plane available."

"You lucky son of a bitch," Two-Bit cursed

"That's what people keep telling me," I answered absently

I let go of Ponyboy to give Soda a hug. He was smiling like no tomorrow despite the tears on his cheeks and that made me grin. When I was finished ruffling his hair, I looked over at Darry. He looked sad and I felt for him. He kept too much in and let too little get help.

Tossing my apple to Two-Bit, I reached over and pulled Darry up, so I could hug him as well. He was crying by that point and hitting me rather hard on the back, like he wanted to hurt me for the last four months. I let him do it until there was nothing left. He pushed himself away from me and still seemed sad.

"I thought we'd lost you, just like Mom and Dad," he croaked

"You should know by now that I'm too stubborn to die," I answered finding myself a little choked up, too

He smiled a little bit and ruffled my hair. I needed to get it cut at some point and I hadn't shaved since I got stateside. I'd imagine I looked a sight and wondered how they could confuse me with Soda for even a minute. He still looked like the same Soda that I left behind. Maybe he was a little wet, but still the same Sodapop. I guess that was easier than admitting a ghost was in their kitchen. I smirked at the thought. I looked nothing like a ghost. I'd gotten pretty tanned and managed to get pretty toned from the constant heat and movement. I'd added some scars to the collection, but nothing in comparison to the ones on my shoulder. I guess you couldn't beat home, I thought bitterly. Not in any respect, it seemed.

"You're home now," Darry said looking into my eyes and I was rushed back to the present

This was home. The smells, the people, the sounds of the floorboards under my feet, the way the refrigerator liked to sputter every once in a while reminding us of how old it was…all of this was part of home. I looked up at Darry, who was smiling now. I grinned, too.

"Yeah," I replied, "I'm home."

* * *

Well, there's the end of that chapter! It was an interesting write and I know it's not the best, but hey. I can settle. 

Any comments at all are welcome and flames are accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!

Tens


	3. A Day At Home

I should let you all know that I wrote the first three chapters as one big one and it was hard to break them all up, but hopefully they make sense.

Oh, and thanks for the futures of the Outsiders, Liz. You may notice I had some fun with Steve.

Dedication: Did everyone know that Thursday the 5th was Darry's Birthday? Well, I kind of let it slip my mind, so happy birthday to him and to Chronic Sarcasm who had her birthday today. One I figure is around 60 and one is a lot younger, so both of them can enjoy that!

Disclaimer: I own Pepsi-cola and the plot. S.E. Hinton owns the outsiders

_On with the show!_

Chapter 2: A day at home

I knew Darry should have gone into work and so should Soda, and now Ponyboy, but they all wanted to be with me and I couldn't really object. I'd been more in my own thoughts for the last few weeks than I thought could ever have been possible. I needed some human interaction, to a point. I didn't know if I could ever tell them about the Mekong or the boys who lost their lives fighting on the banks of it. I could tell them about the Leeches, the heat, the mosquitoes, the blood, the muck, the lack of comforts and Saigon. All four of them listened intently to whatever I was talking about. I supposed it was a whole other world to them. It should have been, for me, too.

"It sounds like…" Ponyboy trailed off trying to describe Nam in one word

"Hell," I ended for him

I could tell Darry had a million questions to follow up that statement, but he restrained himself. I was grateful.

"Well, you're home now," Soda pointed out

"Speaking of which, I don't suppose anyone stopped time here," I hinted and Two-Bit smiled

"Hell no. You missed some good times. Ponyboy here got a job over in a real store, Superman got a raise, Soda discovered how to cook normally," he paused so Soda could take a playful swing at him "And I, Two-Bit 'I love blondes' Mathews-"

"You won't believe this," Soda cut him off

"Hell, we didn't either," Darry put in

"But we were happy once we got used to it-" Pony added

"Would y'all let me tell him already?" Two-Bit griped, but went on anyways "I met a lovely brunette by the name of Rachel and I am so in love!"

"That's great," I commented smiling "I always knew you'd fall for a brunette."

"How come everyone but me knew that?" he asked "I would have stopped worrying over blondes years ago, if I'd have known."

I just shook my head wondering how to explain to him that blondes where boring him and he was enticed by a brunette? I sighed and decided I couldn't.

I rubbed my arms together and tried to get some warmth back into them. Darry eyed me suspiciously, but didn't say anything as he got up and came back with a blanket. I nodded my thanks and wrapped it around my shoulders.

"It's a jungle over there," I answered their curious looks "Humid, hotter than hell and green like you wouldn't believe. Makes Tulsa seem pretty damn cool at the moment."

I noticed Two-Bit had stopped fanning himself at my comment and looked over at where Soda, Darry and Ponyboy where barely wearing anything. It was hot for them, I supposed.

"So, I overheard Steve and Evie want to marry."

"Yep." Darry nodded his head "It was to be our first celebration in a while and we were all looking forward to it."

"Your funeral is still pretty painful," Soda offered what Darry did not "We were looking forward to just forgetting about it and having a good time."

"Hell, man. Anytime with me is a good time," Two-Bit yelped

I smirked at him and nodded to what Soda said. I couldn't imagine how it must have been for them. They thought I was dead and gone in some foreign country where the natives would probably keep my ears as trophies and mutilate the rest of my body beyond recognition. There were other stories I knew that floated around and I didn't envy my brothers. If they had seen the different booby traps the VC used, then they would have known I died painfully and gruesomely at the hands of a brutal enemy. I'd seen people impaled by spikes sprung from the ground, crushed by swinging logs and torn to pieces in general. It was bloody and a hell of a way to die. The thought sent shivers up my spine I couldn't attribute to the cold.

"Are you hungry?" Darry asked pulling me out of my thoughts yet again

"Yeah, I'm starved," I added

"Sorry we didn't wait on you, but we didn't even know you were…alive," Ponyboy tried the word tentatively

"If Two-Bit here would learn how to use his indoor voice, I would have probably given all of you a heart attack at the end of the day instead of the beginning. I still feel like I haven't slept in a week, but I'm glad I caught y'all."

Ponyboy and Soda smiled at me and I wondered if they had done much of that in the last few months. I decided they hadn't and smiled back at them. Darry brought me out a plate of eggs and a dusty jar of salsa from the cupboard a minute later. I never remembered him letting us eat anything in the living room, but I wasn't planning on getting up anyways. I didn't even know if I could get up. I was comfortable where I was.

"Have I mentioned this morning how much I love you?" I asked the salsa jar

Darry smirked at me and I grinned back at him, offering him the jar so he could open it.

"We didn't get much of a food selection over there," I offered, "Mostly lived off of glucose bars."

"You poor bastard!" Two-Bit seemed generally offended that they would feed us that

"No beer, either. Bases had beer, when you could get there, but that was pretty rare," I added

"No beer?" Two-Bit was giving me the same look I figured he'd give a Martian "That's just cruel!"

"Yep. Then there was the fact people shot at you…" I trailed off

"Yeah, but no beer? You could've stayed here and got shot at and had beer and real food!" Two-Bit pointed out

"Yep, but the judge decided I could get shot at over there," I answered smearing salsa all over my eggs

Darry looked lost in thought while Soda smiled at my old habits. Two-Bit watched me smear the salsa over the eggs and shook his head.

"If I didn't know you did this before you left home, I would say those glucose bars gave you odd tastes," he commented

I smirked at him and shook my head. Let him say what he wanted, I was hungry. Over the last week I'd had enough change in my pockets for the odd burger or thing of fries, so this was a feast and I was going to enjoy it.

Two-Bit went on talking about how things had changed while I was gone and I listened with half an ear. He always talked about everything so fast that I never was able to soak it all in and always got my facts mixed up. Soda would fill me in later if Ponyboy didn't first. It was interrupted when Steve walked in, letting the door close behind him. His eyes flew to me like he was seeing a ghost, but the look turned to one I knew well, before we left home, where he wasn't stoned out of his mind.

Steve had gone to Vietnam, but his choice wasn't forced or pressured, like mine was. I hadn't even known he was there until my 15th month. He was in Bein Hoa at one point when I was there. He'd discovered Opium, and most likely a few other things, and it had done some crazy shit to him. He'd broken down when he'd seen me from across the street. I had thought at the time _'Just what I need. It looks like it'll be an early morning tomorrow…' _I'd crossed the street anyways and dragged Steve to the room he claimed to be renting from a very cantankerous looking woman. He couldn't get it through his head that I wasn't Soda and I had given up after a while and just let him call me what he wanted. He rambled most of the time about things the two of them had done back home and how they where going to do more of it once he got home next month and about Evie. He'd cried, he'd laughed and I let him, figuring I would count this as a favor owed from either him or Soda. By the time Steve seemed to be coming down I got tired of the situation and yelled at him for being stupid enough to pass his whole tour on drugs. He'd told me he was never high before a mission, which was smart because no one wants a hophead watching their back when the Viet Cong where aiming for your front. It didn't matter. I had yelled at him until my voice was hoarse and he was reduced to a shocked state. I had finally told him that he and Soda could never be friends again unless he got his act together. That was the last time I had seen Steve Randle until now. He looked clean and he seemed to be back to his old, grumpy self. Maybe I had had an affect on him, after all.

"I'll assume he's why I had to lie to the boss this morning?" Steve asked not looking at me

"I forgot to phone in!" Soda said as if it he'd just remembered that

"The boss says if you're not on your death bed or in that garage before one, then you're fired," Steve informed him

Soda threw me a look that basically said this was beyond his control and I nodded in return. I knew how his boss was.

"Work's work." I shrugged and Soda grinned

"I'll sneak a Pepsi home for you," Soda offered grabbing his cap off the table and darting after Steve

"Just go and save you job," I yelled

"Bye!" Soda hollered back laughing

I smiled myself and looked over at where Darry was sharing my smile. I knew he'd called in and Ponyboy didn't work today, so I had some company. I was looking forward to escaping them for at least a quick shower, though. I said as much to Darry who seemed to have noticed I didn't smell very fresh.

"I have to go shopping for diner anyways," Darry explained "Any requests?"

"Anything but fried chicken and glucose bars."

/-/-/-/-/-/

I hadn't had a hot shower in months and it was just what the doctor ordered. All of my stiff muscles where relaxing under the hot water and I was enjoying it immensely. I was going to have to ask Soda to get the knots out of my shoulders when he got home, though. A fair few of them where too stubborn for the hot water and the stretches I set myself to doing in front of the mirror. I winced occasionally as I found one that didn't like being pulled, but I felt better for it.

Shaved, washed, relaxed and happy, I wrapped a towel around my waist and made my way into the kitchen. I was still hungry, but there seemed to be little enough to eat in this place. Darry'd gotten a raise, Soda and Ponyboy where both working, so there seemed to be no way they were out of grocery money, but Darry had said he was going to the store. Speaking of money, I was broke. Maybe next weekend I would talk Buck into letting me ride. After everything, it would be a ride to see.

I was thinking of some of the ornery beasts I had half broke for the Slash J when I heard a feminine voice in the next room. I would have Recognized Lily's voice anywhere and I was a little disappointed it wasn't her. I was considering going through the other side for the kitchen and putting on more than a towel when Two-Bit walked in the room with a pretty brunette on his arm. Well, I guess they where going to have to take me as I was.

"Hey, here's the guy I was telling you about!" Two-Bit grinned "Rachel Clark this is Pepsi-cola Curtis, recently of the great beyond."

"Stop that," I ordered, "I was never dead."

"According to the tombstone and the US government-"

Two-Bit was going to say something more, but Rachel skillfully elbowed him playfully in the side. She was pretty, not strikingly so, but she had nice eyes and a good smile on her. She also seemed a little shy. I guess I'd always thought only a bubbly, outgoing girl was going to nab Two-Bit Mathews. I guess I was wrong.

"It's nice to meet you," she offered "I heard good things about you."

"Likewise," I answered "I'd like to talk more, but it's a bit too chilly in here for only a towel."

She blushed three different shades of red while Two-Bit laughed.

"You certainly did change over there! There was a time when we couldn't get this kid dressed!" He laughed

That made Rachel blush even harder and I decided to take that opportunity to sneak down the hall and look for some of my clothes. There was only one problem: there didn't seem to be any. Sodapop seemed to have taken up what closet space was left and Ponyboy must have nabbed that stack of shirts I'd found in the closet because they where all of the clothes I seemed to have left.

"Two-Bit?" I called "What did Darry do with my clothing?"

"Donated most of it," Two-Bit answered, "Everybody kept something. I have you lucky pair of socks at home!"

"Very funny," I answered then a bit quieter "This is just great."

I went straight to where I had dropped my duffle the night before and pulled out some pants and underwear. They were in horrible condition, but I was not walking around the house naked all day. The clothes I had worn here and the shorts I had slept in weren't worth the washing to get all the dirt and grime out of them, so I'd figured to go back to wearing what I used to, but that thought was out the window.

"Hey, man, we gotta split," Two-Bit said when I came back into the living room "Rachel's shift starts in about half an hour and I promised her we'd get a bite to eat."

"That's fine with me. It was nice to have met her," I said not seeing her in the room

"She's in the car. Doesn't like to be late because her boss yells at her. I told her if Tompkins did it again I would clean his clock-"

"Tompkins?" I asked

He was the boss down at the diner Lily works at...

"Bye, Pepsi!" Two-Bit said making a beeline out the door as Rachel leaned on the car horn

I was going to ask him about Lily, but I didn't get the chance. I figured he wasn't lying when he said he was in a hurry. I sighed; it was just another thing in life that had changed while I'd been gone. Maybe it wasn't the same old Tulsa anymore.

I didn't have long to think on it when Darry and Ponyboy got home. They where carrying groceries and my stomach thanked them. Darry found this amusing, but put me to work putting them away before he would let me eat anything. I wondered when he'd become such a stick in the mud, but that was Darry for you. He hadn't changed much at all.

Ponyboy, on the other hand, was as tall as I was now. He was built a lot like Soda and me, but I knew he would get taller than the both of us and put on a bit more muscle, too. He wouldn't be Darry's size, especially through the shoulders, but he would fill out a bit. I vaguely wondered when he had started shaving and if he liked girls yet? I knew the girls would like him. He wasn't movie star handsome, but he wasn't far off. Maybe he was what girls would call 'hott'. I had heard one girl tell another a few years ago that Ponyboy had the 'grooviest' eyes. I wondered if she would still think so. They had gone deeper green since I was gone, but there were still flecks of grey in there. I knew one thing hadn't changed about Ponyboy; he still ate like a horse. His stomach was rumbling as much as mine while we put things away. Darry grinned at us, but kept putting things away, promising we would have some lunch in a few minutes.

All three of us put away a few sandwiches each before we decided to try some conversation.

"Hey, Darry. Two-Bit mentioned you'd donated my clothes," I started

"Yeah, I did. About a month ago," Darry sighed "If we had have known…"

"It's fine. It's just that the clothes I have at the moment have either fallen to shreds or they're about to," I explained showing him the rips in my pants

"Well, we kept a few things we knew no one would want," Ponyboy put in "Stuff that was ripped or torn or that was just too…you."

"Like what?" I asked

"Your Slash J jacket, the one from when…" Ponyboy sighed and I knew which one he'd meant "Then there were some jeans with holes in the knees and a couple shirts and stuff."

"Perfect." I smiled "Any boxers?"

"Nope, but we would buy you new ones anyway," Darry added "After lunch you should show me what you have for clothing at the moment and I'll have Ponyboy bring up your box from the basement."

I thanked both of them and helped myself to another ham sandwich. Mustard was something I had missed, too. Bread even! It was the little things and I knew I would always be aware of them from now on.

It was a while later that Ponyboy finally did manage to dig up that box Darry was talking about. A lot of my favorite clothes where in there along with that Slash J jacket that I had sewn after the fire. I was surprised it was in there. I knew for a fact it brought back a lot of bad memories, for Ponyboy especially, but there where a lot of good ones in there, too. I had got it after a tough ride that had dislocated my shoulder, but it was worth it. It was the night my riding career really started. I was too damn stubborn to back down and it had given me something I loved, in fact two some things. I had met Lily after that and I had let her wear it on our first date and many after that. Hell, I had gone into a burning church with this jacket to help someone. This jacket was as much a part of the good as it was of the bad and I was happy to see an old friend.

I got up and went into the bathroom to change. My jeans where a little loose, but I figured a belt would fix that. They where in danger of falling down around my ankles without it and I knew few people would want to see that. I grabbed a pair of Soda's socks off the dryer and re-joined my brothers. Darry was going through my duffle bag and frowning.

"Most of these clothes are garbage," he pointed out

"Yeah. I haven't had a new uniform since I go out of the hospital," I explained "And even then it wasn't all that new."

"Why where you in the hospital?" Ponyboy asked

"Dehydration, mostly. They treated me for malaria as well and doctored up my calf," I explained showing him the lightening bolt-shaped scar

Ponyboy glanced at it for a minute and turned his attention to the carpet. I knew it was a gruesome scar, but I hadn't looked at it in so long that it slipped my mind. I didn't see how it could have. It hurt like a bitch when I got it. Then having nothing to help it because we where so low on supplies, I'd had one of the guys cauterize it for me. Probably saved my life, but I'd almost rectified that situation by shouting loud enough for the damn VC to pin point our position. I distinctly remember passing out and waking up with a rag stuffed in my mouth. That move probably saved the guy's lives, too. Not that it mattered. It only bought them three days…Anyways; I'd torn it open again and gotten it infected before I actually had a real doc look at it. I don't know which hurt more, getting the wound or having that doc clean it out for me.

Darry met my eyes and I turned down my pant leg again. He looked like he was thinking back to a different lifetime, like I was, but he still met my eyes. I tried to smile at him and he nodded to himself.

"The one on your shoulder is worse," Ponyboy offered after a bit

"It sure is," I agreed "I had every unit I was with convinced that I took on a mountain lion."

Ponyboy smiled at me, probably remembering the days before Mom and Dad died. I had told big, exaggerated stories for the hell of it and Ponyboy had been my most avid listener, even though he knew most of them where pure bullshit. He was a good kid. Lord, he was getting too old to be a kid and too tall, too.

"Are you shaving yet?" I asked

"Yeah," his ears started turning a bit red

"Just before last Christmas he started showing hints of a beard," Darry explained "So I bought him his own razor and gave him lessons over the holidays."

I could picture the two of them standing in the bathroom, elbow to elbow with white cream all over their faces. Darry would be showing Ponyboy where to start (right to left as he always did) and Ponyboy would have just nodded. I imagined it would have been something special for Darry and Ponyboy, but they both would have been missing Dad then, Soda, too. It was something he'd taught Darry and then later me and Sodapop - separately, of course. It was something special. Dad had smiled at me at the end of the lesson and proclaimed I was on the road to being a man. I was sixteen at the time and figured I was as much of a man as I was ever going to be. After he and Mom died, I learned there was more to being a man than shaving and getting hair under my arms. Dad knew it and I learned it. I used to wonder sometimes if somehow he would let me know when I was really a man.

"He still nicks himself every once in a while, but he'll do," Darry commented grinning at Ponyboy

"Thanks, Darry," Ponyboy sighed smiling back at him "I do better than Pepsi and Soda did when they started."

"You can at least stand still," I commented smiling "That's mostly why we nicked ourselves."

"Soda still can't stand still," Darry added "But he learned how to shave on the move I suppose."

I nodded thinking that was the way Sodapop did most things.

"So, have you guys seen Shepard?" I asked cautiously

"Yeah. He got back into town a few weeks ago and held one hell of a party," Ponyboy answered and I was relieved "Did you meet up with him over there?"

"Yeah."

The truth was Shepard had met up with me. I knew he shipped out a few months before I did, but I hadn't expected to see him. Vietnam was a big place and then there was Laos on top of that. My second unit was camped out on a hill when none other than Tim Shepard wandered into our midst. We nearly shot him before he put his arms up. I said I knew him and that was good enough. The boys pointed their guns at the ground, but kept them close enough to use just in case. Tim had sauntered over like the jungle was his turf at home and looked me over, declaring I looked out of place in a uniform and like shit in general. I'd laughed and we shook hands and spent a long time just talking about home. It kept the pair of us sane for the three days he was with us before we found his unit. I was happy he was home, now that I knew he hadn't gotten himself killed over there. I guess you could thank the stars for something good, even if Tim Shepard generally wasn't.

"I'm glad he made it home," I said simply

Darry put a hand on my shoulder as he stood up. I'd missed my big brother while I was over there. He had become my best friend again before I'd left…and I was glad he was still there for me. Some things changed, but home always brought you around again.

* * *

Ok! Well, that's the end of that one! I hope everyone enjoyed! Damn, I have nothing to say here when there aren't review thankies. I am definitely leaving another letter with the site…(I will not call it a stupid site, I will not call it a stupid site…oh, hell with it. Stupid site). 

Any comments at all are welcome and flames are accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!

Tens


	4. Welcome Home

Well, here's chapter three! I don't quite know what else to say, but thankies to everyone who reviewed and to all who have been enjoying the show. I know I have been.

Disclaimer: Hinton and Hudson/Rivers own their own stories, I own this one.

Oh! There's a bit more colorful language in here than what has graced the rest of the stoy so far, so don't like swearing, don't read.

On with the show!

Chapter 3: Welcome Home

The three of us found the odd thing to talk about over the afternoon and it seemed to pass us right by. Soda and Steve showed up about the time Darry started cooking dinner. Soda raised an eyebrow at my clothes and suggested I try a pair of his jeans for the time being. I'd told him I' be fine, but he insisted. I suppose he was planning on getting out of his work clothes and spiffing up, too.

"I always was thinner than you and we were the same leg length last I checked, so they should fit. Besides, I can't have my twin walking around in rags, especially at his welcome home party," Soda explained

"Soda, I don't want a welcome home anything," I sighed hearing the news "And you don't look like you're all that spiffed up, either."

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't have let Two-Bit leave the house then," Steve pointed out before Soda could reply

"I didn't even think. He had to rush that girl of his to work," I explained flopping down on the couch

"So you met Rachel. What did you think of her?" Soda asked

"I thought she was shy."

Soda nodded and Steve smirked

"She came from the rich side of town, you know? Then she gets up her courage and tells her daddy she wants a job. She was like a kid playin' house," Steve stated "Then she up and met Two-Bit and we all thought she was shy, too. Then she got pissed off at him for drinking. He hasn't had a beer in…Lordy, how long has it been?"

"A few months, at least." Soda shrugged

"Something like that. Like I was saying, none of us think little old Rachel Clark is shy no more. She even tells us off. I guess it's 'cause you were supposed to be dead that she retreated to being shy."

Steve shifted in his chair and put a foot up on the arm of the couch. I'd just rolled back into town and wasn't looking for a fight, so I was going to let him keep his foot there for a little while longer as a show of good faith.

"Where is this party?" I asked already knowing the answer

"Buck's. Where else would we have it?" Soda asked

I shrugged and figured that the only good party spot on this side of Buck's was Shepard's. Five'd get you ten that Shepard knew I was back, but he wasn't going to host a party in my honor, not when he could crash one at Buck's.

"Everyone will show up for this one. We haven't had a good party since Shepard got back." Steve smiled "Evie even wants to go!"

"Heard you two wanted to get married. Congratulations," I said offering him my hand.

Steve kicked his foot off the arm of the couch and straightened up to shake my hand. He was trying to hide a grin and I sighed. Here it comes.

"I feel like I should salute now."

"If you want. We're not soldiers anymore and you know I wasn't high enough to salute, either," I added

"Higher rank than me," he shrugged

"Cleaner, too," I added and Steve's lips tightened

"I've been clean for months now."

"Glad to hear it. I hope you manage to stay on the bandwagon."

Steve didn't seem to have anything to say to that so I wandered down the hall and went into Soda's room after those jeans. He was right about two things; the jeans fit and I was going to have to look tuff tonight.

Even Steve turned out to be right. Buck's was packed with almost everyone I knew and a fair few I didn't. I lost track of everyone but Darry after we walked through the door. Darry was the type of guy you saw over a crowd and he was easy to spot. All you had to do was follow his line of sight and you could find Ponyboy pretty fast, too. I wasn't surprised that he let Pony come. He was seventeen now. That was too old to stay home while the rest of us went traipsing off, especially if Darry was coming. He wouldn't be drinking and he would have a good time, so I figured everything would turn out fine.

Buck was the first to greet me. He wobbled over, obviously having started celebrating long before the party officially started. He was still missing his two front buckteeth that had got him his nickname and he still grinned more and more as he got drunker and drunker. He was pretty thrilled I was alive. Now I could pay the bar tab I'd racked up before I shipped out and I could start riding again any time I wanted. The last part was appealing. Just to get on the back of a horse again would be nice.

Drinks where shoved at me from all sides from Greasers who where either drunk or planning on it in the very near future. I enjoyed the attention, but didn't have much of a stomach for liquor after not having it for so long. The night Ponyboy and Johnny got into all that trouble was when I told myself I would quit drinking. I'd lied to myself there. I had drank a few times after that, socially, but not enough to get me drunk. It was different over there. When I could get beer over there, I jumped on my chance – what guy wouldn't? I'd say one thing for Buck; he had better swill than all the places I'd been to in Vietnam.

I took the odd sip of whatever was in my hand and tried to enjoy myself. Hank Williams had been put on hold after Buck conveniently passed out part way through the party. Darry, who had been standing beside me at the bar whispered an 'it's about time' under the cheers of the rowdy crowd. I smirked at him and wandered around the room for a bit. I was just restless, I supposed. I couldn't sit still without someone wanting something or pushing another drink in my face. I noticed Two-Bit was drinking smartly and slowly under the gaze of Rachel. She would throw the odd peanut shell at him and they would laugh together. It had me thinking on someone I hadn't seen yet tonight. Lily. I hadn't really expected to see her here, but I guess I was a little let down all the same.

"You look like you would rather be anywhere else but here," Tim Shepard commented as I passed by the chair he had been sitting on.

"Not anywhere else," I answered and he nodded knowing where I meant

He wasn't easily seen unless you where right in front of him and even then he seemed to blend well enough to be let alone. He did stand then and handed me a beer. I would have refused, but it didn't seem like a good idea at the time. Tim motioned me towards a rear exit and I followed him, happy just to get out of the crowd.

The night air hit my lungs like a cold wave after the heat that had built up inside. Tim seemed to feel it too as he took in a deep breath. That was the one thing about parties that I didn't like. It got too confining and way too damn hot. It was like being in that church up on Jay Mountain again. There was only one difference: I could get out of there by kicking out a few windows. Here, it wasn't as easy.

"Pretty night," Tim commented popping the cap off his beer

"Yeah, it sure is. Not as clear over here, but still pretty," I added

The two of us had commented on the nights over there and it seemed to be some common ground. The two of us hadn't really talked since before the rumble almost three years ago now, until we ran into each other in Nam. That was there, though, and not here. How could we talk about there, here?

"I got shipped in last month," he answered "Went and saw your grave and thoughtabout my last month. I want toget one question answered."

"We were set up," I answered already knowing the question "No one had to tell us, we knew."

He nodded. I never did find out exactly what 'the powers that be' told the different units over there, but whatever it was it made us public enemy number one. It was a hell of a way to go out.

"Thought it was something like that."

We were quiet for a minute after that. I enjoyed the stars and the faint sounds of the music and laughter inside. It was calming. We were on a bridge between two worlds and we knew it. One world was complicated and loud, the other calm and magical. It couldn't last, though, and it didn't.

The door we came out of flew open and banged against the side of the building. The music flooded out into the night with the lights, cigarette smoke and general party noises.

"Jesus, Curly. You didn't need to hit it that hard."

Little old Curly Shepard stepped out into our sanctuary and my own kid brother followed him. Ponyboy didn't look tough when you compared him with the middle Shepard sibling who was both shorter and more burly looking. He wasn't as cold and hallow looking, either. I supposed that was what happened when you grew up like the Shepard boys had. Mom, she'd kept us from turning hard like them and Dad had kept us out of trouble. It made you wonder how they could have turned out if they were in our positions. I looked over at Tim and couldn't imagine him any other way. He had that leadership factor, that cool aloofness and deadly looks Curly didn't. Curly was too bold and had some growing up to do before anyone would think of him as something more than a punk kid. Ponyboy was grown up, but he'd always be the baby in my mind. To see him stand there made me realize he wasn't going to be forever.

"What d'ya want, Kid?" Tim snapped at his younger brother

"I don't want nothin', Tim. Curtis here was lookin' for him." he inclined his head in my general direction and I turned my attention back to Ponyboy

"Ponyboy?"

"I was wondering if I could bum a couple bucks," he explained, slouching his shoulders and shoving his fists into his pockets "I forgot to bring some."

"Yeah, no problem. What are you up to?" I asked digging through my pockets

Ponyboy shrugged and I handed over the money. He had never felt guilty or embarrassed about asking me for money before, not even in front of the Shepard boys, but now he was making his own and was probably paying his own way partly. I wondered if it was because I had been out of his life for so long or if he was going to buy something that Darry really wouldn't approve of. I didn't think he would, but I had been gone awhile. I looked him over and he glanced at me a bit guiltily. I raised an eyebrow and he sighed.

"Curly and some of the boys want to play pool," he explained

I instantly relaxed. To play pool with the Shepard boys, you always had to put in some cash to make things interesting. I'd played enough to know that it made things… interesting. I also knew enough to know that they cheated like mad and fights could start up over those games. No wonder he'd come to me.

"Have fun." I patted his arm and he turned back to the party with Curly behind him

"Geese, Curtis. You where acting like that was going to be painful."

"Just shut up, Curly," Ponyboy sighed

"If it where the big one, I would understand…."

I lost track of their conversation after that. Tim closed the door and we leaned against the wall in silence again. It wasn't awkward. It was more companionable. I liked it.

"Welcome home, Curtis," Tim said lifting his bottle

"Thanks, Shepard." I raised my bottle as well

We both took a long drink. Tim threw his empty bottle towards the parking lot and pushed himself off the wall fully. He moved for the door and I didn't bother stopping him. He and I had done whatever it was he had wanted us to do. I guess we were the only ones who would understand any of it, all of it, and none of it at the same time. I took another drink of my own beer and sighed. Things where less complicated once upon a time. What I wouldn't give for that again. I looked up at the moon, remembering another night like this and another bottle in my hand. I raised it in a silent salute and took another drink remembering someone else who had understood all that.

"Thanks, Dal."

I made my way back into the party feeling more somber than I thought was possible at a party. It was getting close to midnight and I knew things would wind down in the next couple hours. I didn't know if I could stick it out that long. I spotted Darry from his place at the bar. He was leaning on the rail with an untouched drink at his elbow. I set mine down beside his and looked over at what he was watching.

Ponyboy was leaning in for a shot with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He missed and Curly Shepard patted his back laughing. He seemed to have lost his cigarette in there somewhere and I wasn't about to speculate. I glanced at Darry who seemed reasonably confident with what he saw. Soda and I had taught Ponyboy how to play years ago over Two-Bit's drunk laughter and Steve's sarcastic comments. I had no doubt in my mind that he wasn't embarrassing himself over there.

"After this game we'll head home," Darry stated

I nodded, not even objecting. I was getting tired and was feeling closed in again. It was getting too cold to be outside, though. I hadn't complained with Shepard out there, but I was only out there because of him.

As if by magic, Ponyboy and Sodapop showed up at the bar at midnight. That seemed to make Darry happy and he led us out through Buck's back door so we could skip the drunken goodbyes that would start up about then. I was grateful and I knew he knew I appreciated his clever thinking.

"Did you win?" I asked Pony as we all got into the truck

"Yeah, I won one game. I can give you back your money when we get home," he assured me

"Don't worry about it, it's only money." I shrugged and leaned my head on Soda's shoulder.

It wasn't just money, it was all the money I had in the world and I had to dig through a lot of stuff to find my wallet again, but I could always get more and Ponyboyhad putit to good use. Darry grunted in amusement at that statement. I supposed money was something else to him. It meant a house over our heads, food on the table and clothes on our backs. To me, it wasn't all that important after everything I'd seen. It financed people to go and kill each other. There was no money where I was unless you went to a city or managed to get your pay for the month. That went straight home on the next plane. Barter, now that was a smart way to go about it. One man has a spare blanket, another an extra chicken. One was hungry, the other was cold. It seemed fair to me. Too bad the world wasn't fair.

/-/-/-/-/

The next morning I woke up hungry and irritable. Darry, Soda and Ponyboy had all gone either to work or off somewhere. I was a little put out that they hadn't left a note or anything, but I wasn't going to let it add to my foul mood. There was no way she didn't know I was home and she still stayed away. It irritated me more than anything. Having her here had got me through being over there and now that I was here…I needed her more than anything.

I knew she liked working mornings at the diner so she could go to the stables in the afternoon, and Darry said she was working full time at the diner now, so I decided I would have breakfast there. It would be nice to sit down in a place like that and have a good meal. I hadn't done that in over a year. Thinking that idea was the best one I had had in a long time, I started out towards the west side. Coming from the direction of our neighborhood you ended up out back of the diner. That's where the cook usually took his smoke breaks along with a few of the crabby waitresses. Lily didn't smoke, but she was sitting there with a cigarette in her hand looking at her shoes while some guy in a knitted sweater chewed her out.

My first instinct was to go over there and beat the guy's head in, but remembering Lily and how she handled her own problems, I stood where I was and leaned against a building near by. She could take care of herself, I knew that, but I wondered if I was hanging back because I was mad at her. I got mad at myself then. I really was in an irritable mood. I looked back over at where the sweater guy was still yelling at Lily. She finally looked up at him and took a drag of her cigarette like a pro. She glared at the guy and said something that made him mad enough to grab her arm. She threw her cigarette aside and blew smoke right in his face. He wound back his arm to belt her and I decided I couldn't sit on the sidelines anymore.

"Hey!" I yelled to cover the distance

He looked over at me and tightened his grasp on Lily's arm before putting his fist down. He glared at her and spun her so they were both facing me, but Lily was staring at her feet again.

"Mind your own business, Greaser." So, he was a Soc. Whey wasn't I surprised?

"Oh, but this is my business," I assured him

Lily looked up then, wide eyed at me. I didn't take my eyes off of the Soc, but from the corner of my eye I could see a bruise on her face. In the movies there was always a bull that saw red just before charging. I didn't see red, but I didn't remember charging, either. I had the guy up against the wall with my arm against his throat. He'd let go of Lily when I grabbed a hold of him, but I couldn't have let him go, even if I wanted to.

"You son of a-"

He let out a gurgling sound and his eyes were angry and frightened all at the same time. Pressure to the windpipe would cut off what air he had and in another minute he would turn a deep blue color and then he'd go limp in my arms and would most likely loose control of his bowels. I'd seen it a dozen times, held the same life in my hands a few dozen more. It wasn't a pretty way to die. He deserved worse. I let some pressure off his throat and he swallowed air heavily. I took a step back and let him go, not trusting myself while he was vulnerable. He coughed and looked at me with all the hatred and loathing he could muster. I just stood there, trying to keep my arms by my sides.

"You ever touch her again, and I'll kill you," my tone was almost casual

There was no further threat and I didn't even have to raise my voice, but the threat was there and I knew he took me seriously. He rubbed at his throat before looking at his fist and then to me. I dared him to try it. He took a swing and I took one of my own. He grazed my arm and I broke his nose. His blood was all over his sweater and I think it scared him. He scrambled away from me and I let him leave, slinking around the corner and running towards the front of the diner.

Everything seemed really quiet then and I could hear the passing cars again. I could also hear Lily's breathing. I turned and she was looking at me with both anger and pain. I took a step towards her and she stepped back, pain turning fast to anger. Well, I had chosen a free spirit. I was going to have to deal with what came.

"God, I missed you," I said really meaning it

"Oh really?" her voice was quiet, but the tone to it was worse than her yelling

"Yeah, I did," I said

"You always were a bad liar."

"I meant that, Lil."

"Bullshit!" she cursed "Bullshit. Two years. Two fucking years with one measly post card and you expect me to believe that?"

"Lil…" I started already knowing I was going to loose it with her

"Don't," she ordered, "Don't call me that!"

"I just want to talk."

"No! You went off and then you died! Now you think everything can just be the same?" her lip trembled and her voice was full of raw emotions "I won't! You can go and fuck yourself!"

"You are really trying my patience," I said as evenly as possible

"And you're trying mine! What right do you have to come into my life like this?" she demanded "What right did you have to get into my business?"

"That guy was going to beat you!" I snapped "Would you rather I stood over there and watched with a fucking bag of peanuts?"

"What my fiancé does is none of your business."

My eyes shot to her left hand, horrified. Here was a small gold band sitting on her ring finger like it had been there for a long time. I looked up at her face, finding only defiance there with the dark rings under her eyes. I made my own face as hard as I could, but the shock was hard to push down.

"So, you'd rather have that?" I asked

"He's not perfect, but he's alive and he's here!" she cried

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I snapped, "You're too good for that asshole!"

She bit her lip and pushed back whatever she was going to say. We were both silent for a moment, her biting her lip and me thinking. What the hell had happened to us?

"You're right," she answered weakly "But I've learned love isn't worth it. If I don't love him, he can't hurt me"

I shook my head she sat down on a crate.

"He can hurt you, just not the way I did," I answered running a hand though my hair

"Why didn't you write?" she asked after a while

"Why didn't I write?" I paused "I wrote you every day."

But every time I re-read what I had written, it was so full of misery, pain, killing and just plain shit that I couldn't send them. She didn't answer and I didn't elaborate. We both just kept our thoughts to ourselves. She looked back towards the diner where we could hear her boss inquiring where she was and I sighed, looking out towards the traffic.

"I'm going home. If he ever touches you like that again, I'll kill him," I repeated my earlier words, starting off towards home

"Damn you!" She yelled after me

"Damn me?" I asked stopping and turning to look at her "You think you want that on your conscience? After everything?"

"Yeah." Her face was hard

I wanted to flip her off, I wanted to yell at her and mostly I wanted to just hold her. I settled on turning my back and continuing on my way

"Welcome home, Pepsi-cola."

I turned to see if she had actually said it, but she was already in the back the door of the diner before I could tell.

Welcome home. That about summed it up.

* * *

Well, another chapter down. This was one of my less-favorites of the ones written, mostly because I have never just written a verbal fight on its own without a character like Pepsi hitting something. Go me!

I hope everyone enjoyed and thanks go out to all who reviewed.

See ya in the funny papers!

Tens


	5. Selfish

Well, this is the first chapter that wasn't a part of the Big Three, as I call them. So I worry about this one and every one to follow for style, but hey.

Disclaimer: The usual

Chapter 4: Selfish

When I got home from seeing Lily, there was still no one home. I wasn't sure if I would have preferred them there or not. I wasn't angry, not after the row we'd had, but I was upset. I wanted to hit something, real bad. No, I was glad I was on my own.

In the back yard were a bunch of fist-sized rocks and some sacks. I knew they'd do fine for what I had in mind. It was something Gayle Rivers, one of my commanding officers, had suggested to me once. I could still remember the way he'd said it and was actually mad at myself when I smiled, remembering Rivers' words.

"Sometimes, the only way to feel better is to hit something. So, if you can't find Jackson or a stray VC, dump out your bag, find some rocks and bloody hit something."

I was going to 'bloody hit something' all right and I was going to do it the right way. I knew exactly how broad and square ended Rivers' hands had been. He could afford to hit straight rocks. My hands were smaller than his and wouldn't take it. So I put the rocks in the middle, where there was some padding from the burlap and hoisted the bag up, tying it to one of the stronger branches on the tree in our back yard. It wasn't the best homemade punching bag, but I knew it would do the job.

Taping my knuckles and taking off my shirt, I eyed my creation. I had used the rocks to prevent it from swaying all over the place, but I thought it could have been heavier. I took a jab at the bag and it barely moved. I smirked. It would do.

That jab was just the first. I punched that damn bag until my arms hurt and sweat was dripping into my eyes. I didn't let it bother me; I still wanted to hit it. I was getting tired, though and I knew that I wouldn't be hitting it much longer. I sighed and thought of that bastard Soc. He'd ruined everything. I drew back an arm and hit the bag again and again. He'd ruined everything and I was going to beat his head in. The bag was the best I was going to get for the time being, so I pretended. His nose was broken, his teeth were missing, his eyes were swelling shut and I was sure that if I hit him hard enough, he would fall to the ground, dead. But the bag kept coming back and I kept urging it to.

"Having fun?"

"This isn't about fun," I gasped back at Darry between gulps of air, not looking away from the bag

"I can see that. You need to stop before you fall over," he said matter of factly, stepping off the back porch and coming over to where I was standing

I didn't answer him, but I knew his coaxing would lead to a fight and I didn't want anyone else in my head right now. I wanted to have anger for that Soc and that was it. I punched the bag a few more times for good measure and dropped my arms. They felt like dead weights and they burned like mad. I liked that feeling.

"Do you do this every day?" Darry asked looking at the bag with some scrutiny

"No," I answered "Never."

I reached for my shirt and nearly toppled over, but I waved away Darry's helping hand. I'd done this to myself and I was going to be fine. He gave me worried looks, but didn't press the fact I wasn't walking in a straight line. I flopped down on the back porch and wiped my forehead with the shirt. I hadn't thought ahead to bring water out with me, but I wished I had. Darry seemed to be thinking the same thing. He disappeared into the house and came back out with a glass of water. I nodded my thanks and gulped it down, feeling my panting breaths returning to normal. We sat on the porch for a bit before I finally decided Darry was waiting for me to say something.

"Why didn't you tell me about Lily?" I asked finally

"I was hoping someone else would," he answered honestly "Look how riled up you got over it."

"When?" I asked hoping he wouldn't cause me to elaborate

"They started dating when you'd been gone about a year. Then you died and Lily took it hard. Her mom was killed a few weeks before hand and she was working full time at the diner. She quit the stables," Darry sighed "There was nothing good in her life but him and us at that point and she was depressed. She thought that maybe not staying loyal to you caused you to die. She was mad that you never wrote and she couldn't write you. We tried, but they were always sent back to us unopened. We figured you never got them."

"I didn't," I confirmed "I didn't get a single scrap of mail over there, but I did send money."

"Yes, we got the money," Darry sighed "But we still worried, especially when the money stopped coming."

I didn't answer. I had stopped when we went out on the mission. He didn't press me, though and he went on.

"He asked her about three weeks ago. She'd come and asked my permission," Darry's voice was dry "I told her it wasn't my decision. I could tell she wished it were."

I nodded. I could imagine Lily being torn.

"You should have told her no," I answered bitterly

"You were dead. I wouldn't keep her anchored to a memory, not when she had other options," he answered "To do that would have been selfish of me and you."

"I don't care," I answered truthfully "I came back and I will never hit her."

I rose to my feet and went into the house. Darry was on my heels, looking like he wanted me to explain.

"You hit that girl?" he demanded looking mad, no, almost livid

"No. That bastard she's marrying did."

I hadn't realized how loud I'd said that until both Soda and Steve popped their heads into the kitchen. They were both looking shocked. I wish I could have felt that. I wish I could have felt anything but anger. Darry's expression did a double take and I remembered a time when that would have satisfied me. I felt sick now.

"I went to see her. She was out back with him. He was yelling and she was letting him. He raised his hand to her and I raised mine to him."

"That…" Soda trailed off looking sick, just like I felt

"Bastard!" Steve finished for him "I hope you gave him one for me."

"I nearly killed him," I admitted dryly

Darry was looking at me with a hard expression I couldn't read He seemed angry and worried all at the same time.

"You what?"

"I didn't cause him permanent harm," I said sitting down at the table "I was at least controlled up to that point. Then again, I didn't know they were engaged at that point."

Darry looked at me with something like sympathy in his eyes. He laid a hand on my shoulder and looked pointedly at Sodapop and Steve. They nodded and silently left Darry and I alone in that kitchen. He pulled out a chair and sat across from me, setting himself up for a long talk.

"Tell me everything that happened this morning," he ordered and I gave in

I told him everything, every thought and every emotion I had had that morning. He sat there and listened with a hand hovering between grabbing my shoulder and keeping his distance. I didn't want to be touched and I was glad he was thinking of distance. He set his hand down flat on the table when I was done, looking like he was doing some serious thinking.

"Listen, little buddy," Darry paused, looking as serious as I had ever seen him "I want you to be careful."

"Careful?" I blinked, that was the last thing I had been expecting

"I've known you for as long as you've been alive. You can hold your own better than most people I know and you don't go looking for fights. You wouldn't hurt someone like that unless you wanted to. But you've changed. You barely caught yourself from killing that Soc."

I looked up at him then. He was right. Just a minute more and he would have been dead. I would have been responsible for yet another death. I didn't let myself think about that. I looked right back into Darry's concerned eyes, almost seeing Mom sitting there with Dad beside her. How could someone look so hauntingly like them both be someone all his own?

"I know you're weren't looking for trouble, but you can't go after him again, even if he provokes it."

"I could take him," I said trying, unsuccessfully, to lighten the mood

"Yeah, you could," Darry admitted "But I'd rather have you wondering if you could than trying to prove it. If you get hauled in, with your record, it'll be bad."

He didn't have to elaborate on that sentence for me. I knew I wouldn't get off light. If assault was the only charge, the manslaughter would get brought up and I could be looking at the inside of a jail cell. If I couldn't stand the thought of it when I was last in court, then I certainly couldn't now, not after being so free I was almost a wild beast, like the black stallion tattooed into my shoulder.

"Its just that we lost you once and to have you locked up just when we got you back…"

I glanced at Darry to find he was looking out the window, a guarded expression on his face. I could sense the emotion he was keeping down and I wished I hadn't. I didn't like the emotions it brought forth in me, either.

"I'll be careful, Darry," I assured him a few minutes later "I'm not anxious to land in a cell anytime soon, not after the last time."

Darry nodded, still looking out the window. His brows creased in thought and he looked at me with puzzlement.

"What happened last time?" he asked and I sighed myself

"What the fuzz told me or the bits and pieces I remember?" I asked and Darry glanced at me, wondering if I was serious or not.

The day of the trial I had tried to piece the whole mess together from what I remembered, but there was so little there to put together. I had been walking home from The Ribbon when I heard the engine behind me. I was in middle class territory and hadn't expected trouble. Then the car pulled over and five boys got out, Soc boys. I'd been ready for them, but with a fight under my belt a few days ago, I wasn't eager to make my fists any sorer than they were. I reminded them about the contract we'd all signed just before the rumble, but they didn't care. One took a swing at me and that had started everything. I threw a few more before being shoved head first into a wall. They were yelling over something and there had been a lot of confusion after that.

"….Next thing I remember is talking with the doctor. He had me squeeze his fingers and looked in my eyes and all that. He was afraid I had brain damage, but it turned out to be one hell of a goose egg and a headache that would have killed a horse. He kept the fuzz off of me until he thought I could stand a court hearing. The rest, you know."

Darry looked up when I was finished talking and frowned again.

"So you were sentenced for doing something you don't even remember," he stated looking sick and mad

"And I've paid for it every damn day since."

We both fell into a thoughtful silence after that and I was vaguely aware that Darry had successfully got my mind off Lily. He'd given me a lot more to ponder instead, though. I hadn't thought about what had happened for a long time. Nam didn't leave time for memories, just cold hard math.

"You're home now," Darry said evenly and that ended the subject as far as he was concerned.

"It sure doesn't feel like it," I commented dryly

"You just have to get used to it again," Darry assured me

"I don't know, Darry. I don't think I ever will." I rubbed my forehead hard "I just don't know anything anymore."

Darry didn't have anything to say to that. What could he say? I meant what I had said. I didn't know how to survive here anymore. I had jumped at the sound of a car horn earlier, I had nearly set my hand down on a hot burner yesterday and when the phone rang, I just looked at it dumbly like I had never seen one before. Punching something had helped, but now I was back to step one: thinking. There was a time when I had accused myself of doing too much of that. I had no idea what too much thinking was then. I understood it perfectly, now.

Darry didn't look at me with pity and I was grateful. The last thing I needed was pity. He wasn't even really looking at me anymore. His eyes were taking me in, but he wasn't here. He was miles away. You knew something was bugging him when he let himself go enough to do that. Darry lived in the here and now, only putting away for tomorrow. The past was a closed book, but he looked like he was doing some browsing now. If he was anything like Ponyboy, I knew I would be having a one sided conversation, so I kept quiet.

I eased myself out of the chair and wished I had never sat down. I was stiff all over. I limped to the entry of the kitchen and looked over a where Soda and Steve were watching the TV. It was down low and I was sure they had heard everything. I ignored the looks they sent me and eased myself down on the couch. Damn I had missed the couch.

"You look sore," Soda commented and I shrugged

Soda knelt down by the couch and I moved so I was on my stomach. He started kneading the sore muscles in my back and I winced more often then not. Steve left somewhere in there and Soda hummed softly.

"Hey, Soda?" I asked suddenly "If you knew for sure that, well, that Sandy left you for another guy, could you have moved on faster?"

"No," Soda answered after a moment "I think it would have hurt more to know for sure. I'm sorry you do."

"Yeah, me too."

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

The next morning I arrived at a conclusion: I didn't have enough to do and I was broke. So I decided it was time to go calling on an old friend or two. Buck Merrill had told me there was always a place at the Slash S for me and I was going to remind him of that. I was good and I had loved it. The money wasn't bad, either, so it looked like a perfect fit. Soda and Darry had both given me strange looks when I explained what I wanted to do, but Ponyboy seemed to understand. A routine would be good for me. At least I was going somewhere I wouldn't run into Lily or her Soc fiancé. I just hoped being around horses wouldn't keep reminding me of her. I don't think I could stand being back there, if they did.

I walked into Buck's earlier than anyone else ever had, I was sure. The general rule of thumb was that you didn't come calling before noon. It was a sign of respect for everyone that had been drinking the night before and was suffering from a nasty hangover. Well, I had no pity for those fools and I figured that getting business out of the way now would help to free up a lot more of my day than waiting around for Buck to haul himself out of his drunken sleep. I found him in his bedroom alone and still clothed, thankfully, but he was in a deep sleep. I finally ended up stabbing him with a fork that was on the floor. I figured he would mope and whine over his arm for a while and that he would be less inclined to give me a helping hand, but I remembered how much Buck liked money. I knew he would like my proposal.

"L'emme get this straight," Buck muttered holding his head in his hands "You want me to be your rodeo partner?"

"More like rodeo agent. You set up the rides and I'll do the rest," I explained

"I want 45 percent," he ordered

"Twenty," I countered "You'll be betting on me anyways and making more money than I will with those winnings."

Buck churned this over in his brain. It looked quiet painful and I remembered hangovers well. There were reasons why had I hadn't had one since Nam. Mostly it was common sense. I was sick of being sick because I wanted to have a good time. There were better ways and I enjoyed the out come more. I wondered how much Buck was tanking these days. He used to manage a couple six packs to himself and whatever hard liquor he had a craving for. It made him pretty damn drunk, but he was good at pushing his limits.

"Ok," he muttered "But if I loose money-"

"You won't," I answered going to the door. "Let the folks over at the Slash J know that I'm going to be in the barn today. I haven't ridden anything in a couple years."

"I know. That's what worries me," Buck answered flopping back down on his bed, looking like he regretted the sudden movement.

I shrugged and closed the door behind me. Darry had cautioned me on the same thing that morning. I knew what I was doing. Back in my rodeo days I never practiced, figuring that I would react on instinct when I got on whatever animal I was racing, riding, roping, wrestling or chasing after. I was still good enough to make a few bucks a ride on bets and what the Slash J paid me from the profits made. If there was a rodeo in town, which I knew there would be in the next month, I always won something and that kept me going even longer. If anything, I would be better than I was. I was going to work out the kinks and make an effort. Then I could put some money away and no one would have anything to worry about.

When I got to the barn, all the stalls were filled and I knew there were more horses on the Slash J ranch outside of town. It was relaxing to be in a barn again, but I meant business. I was in my oldest clothes and had managed to dig up my boots somewhere. I would have looked the part of the perfect hick, if it weren't for the mended leather jacket I was wearing. It was the one from before Dally died and I felt right wearing it there. It fit, just like the horses did.

I took a look down all the stalls and finally saw that damn white horse. Goblin was one horse that I had always fought with, but we came to a bit of an understanding once upon a time. I figured that understanding was about gone now and I didn't want to have to re-build it. He was a mean horse. He bit, he kicked and he reared. He was naturally Dally's horse. I had never understood how they got along, but I didn't really have to. Dally always rode him and I rode another horse by the name of Dunn. Dally always won, though. He credited the horse, but the horse only won when Dally was on his back. They were partners and I was going to have to build up the same partnership, if I wanted to win. I had no choice in the matter. I had to win. If I didn't, I would have to put off my plans a hell of a lot longer than I wanted to.

I glanced at the fancy little nametags that clipped onto the stalls thinking they were a new addition and frowned. Francisco? Who the hell would name a horse Francisco? I glanced at Goblin, who was oblivious to the fact I was there. No, he wasn't a Francisco.

"Hello, Goblin," I said leaning on the stall

The white horse turned his head towards me and gave me an almost curious glance. I was surprised he hadn't followed it with a kick, but he was a smart horse. I could see he'd kicked over his water bucket and sighed. I was going to have to go into the stall where he could kick me without effort. Then there would really be a fight on my hands. Never being one to beat around the bush, I climbed the side of the stall and jumped down beside him where he could do as little damage as possible to me. He had stood stock still with his ears plastered back against his skull and I sighed. He was still mean and ornery.

"Ok, horse," I said remembering how Dallas used to talk to him "We have a race in a coupl'a days. If you won't help me win, I might as well run the damn thing on my own."

Goblin's ears perked and I wondered if he was remembering some of his old pep talks. If he was, I could have an advantage that would be hard to beat.

"Well, it's a good thing we're old friends," I pointed out and his ears laid flat on his head again "Alright, old mutual acquaintances. Happy, horse?"

His ears pricked again and he returned to chomping hay. I reached down for the bucket and worked my way to the stall door. Goblin wrinkled back his upper lip, like he meant to bit me, but I glared right back at him and showed him the bucket. He thought I would hit him with it right across the nose if he pulled any shit with me and he backed off a bit. I saw the scar of where someone had done the same thing once and I didn't blame him for retreating. Dallas had been reeling in anger over it at the time and had been there the whole time while they were trying to stitch up the horse. If there was ever anything, other than Johnny Cade, that Dallas Winston cared for, it would have been Goblin. I smirked at the dumb horse and wondered if he knew how lucky he was. His ears were back, but he went back to chomping on hay.

I walked over to the trough, thinking it was like being in a dream. I remembered doing this once, but it was so long ago that it seemed like it had happened to someone else and I was just remembering it. I shook myself physically and sighed. The bucket filled with water that had little bits of hay in it and a dead water bug. Goblin wouldn't mind. I had the feeling he was part carnivore anyways. I walked right back over and grabbed a brush on my way. If that horse and I were going to come to a peace, I was going to have to get him and me in the same mindset. Dunn had loved being brushed and I knew Dallas had never bothered, so why not give it a try?

I ran the brush along the hair on his back and he stiffened, stomping in agitation. I thought about what Lily had taught me and wanted to curse, instead I sighed and started talking.

"Horse, you and me, we're partners now. I know good old Dallas is somewhere laughing at us right now because he always told me I would have to ride you to win. I told him over his dead body would he loose to me. I hate it when I'm right."

I sighed, taking a deep breath of he warm smells from the barn. Goblin smelled of dust and life. I shook my head, figuring I was going to get kicked if I didn't keep talking.

"You and Dallas are alike, so much alike that I used to swear you were one soul. You both worked at everything you did so that you'd loose a little bit more of who you were every time. By the end, Dallas had lost so much he was a shell, I see that now. You're turning into one before my very eyes, but I wouldn't try to stop you, even if I could. See, I learned something over there in Nam, horse. I learned that if a person doesn't have it in him to live anymore, he'd just keep on going, wondering why no one had bothered to put him out of his misery. It's the ones that want to live so badly, they're the ones who die so easily and senselessly. Dallas cheated, and knowing your kind, I know you'll find a way to cheat, too.

"Just promise me you won't bring me down with you. I wont say right now that I care anymore which one I am. Being one would just seem pointless and the other…but it would be selfish of the pair of us to cheat with my brothers…well, they've been through a lot. And it would be selfish of me to just quit with so many things left to do. I won't let you or me hurt them like that. Not after everything I've already put them through."

I sighed and patted his back. I was just spouting out nonsense and getting the pair of us worked up. That was enough for today. I wasn't going to push him or me.

"Tomorrow, horse, you and I have a date in that training ring," I assured him and he flicked his tail at me

Tomorrow, I thought, would be the new start the pair of us would be looking for, even if it killed the pair of us to get there.

* * *

Well, the second half of that chapter wasn't my favorite. In fact, I would have rather just cut the chapter off at five pages, but I didn't and here we are. So I hope everyone enjoyed and thanks to the reviewers! Lord am I chicken.

Any comments at all are welcome and flames are accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!

Tens


	6. Classified

Well, here it is! Chapter five. I always swore that if I wrote a war story this would not be part of it, but it came and Pepsi was adamant that we keep it. Bossy Asshole... Anyways, thanks to all the reviewers! I will get back to you all someday, I hope. I really do mean to, but I also get distracted easily these days. So...I should just get on with it.

I apologize in advance. The beginning is a tad bit confusing for a little while. Hopefully it makes sense later on.

Disclaimer: The usual

Dedication: To anyone reading

On with the show!

Chapter 5: Classified

_  
'...Curtis, go straight. Morrosco and I will be right behind you," Rivers ordered moving through the brush towards us_

_"What about the others?" I asked_

_"They'll be fine. Prather has his orders to cover the way we came. Any trouble and we'll hear about it," Rivers assured me _

_"If Tan can manage keeping Jackson and Wiley apart with that shoulder of his," Morrosco put in doubtfully_

_"Everyone but Wiley will be just fine then," I replied receiving a shake of the head from Rivers_

_"Sure you want to take point?" Morrosco asked smirking as he shoved me forward_

_"Nope, but it beats where you and Kiwi are. I would rather just have those VC coming directly at me from one front," I answered starting off towards the break in the trees..._

_I couldn't hear Morrosco or Rivers behind me. That meant they were doing their jobs and I had mine to do. I kept my pace steady and tried to look as relaxed as possible. If they thought I was just out for a stroll and not hunting them, I say let them think that. The longer I could keep this up, the longer we had to get through here._

_Suddenly everything changed. The sky was dark, the forest was foggy and I couldn't see much more than ten feet in front of me and it was all jungle. Then I heard a noise behind me. I froze and turned around slowly. Morrosco was there, leaning his back against a tree while he fought with a man in his arms. He had out one tool of war I couldn't stomach. 3 piano wires with wooden toggles on the ends that served as handles. He had it wrapped around the Cong's neck. It had nearly severed it, as it had the heads of a few others. It didn't seem to bother me this time. He grimaced up at me and I saw the man in his arms was very much alive for the moment. I looked down at the poor bastard and watched as his features changed from those of a Viet Cong to those of my baby brother. His eyes were sad and accusing. They had a right to be. I couldn't move to help him. I couldn't even utter a word to make Morrosco stop. He wouldn't have. There was no way Pony could have been there. He'd accuse me of going mad and I wouldn't blame him. My baby brother gasped for breath and you could see the air bubbles in the blood where the throat was cut and the spine was nearly severed._

_"He should be dead by now," Morrosco seemed almost puzzled as he spoke_

_I wanted to close my eyes and turn away as his body finally slumped into death. His eyes were still gaping and accusing. I couldn't break our stare._

_"Dieing can be a horrible thing, but I think that is the most terrible way," Rivers spoke from my side and I was finally able to look at him._

_It wasn't the Rivers I had known. It was the bloody body I had seen them lift into the chopper just before I blacked out on that open ground. I stepped back, somehow this scared me even more than the way Pony had died. I backed into something and whipped around as another hand was laid on my shoulder. _

_There was Johnny Cade hanging from a noose in a tree, burned like he had been when Dallas and I pulled him out of the church, but he had the same eyes and the same blue tint Pony had. The hallows under his eyes made him look more sinister than Ponyboy had. He looked like something evil, not something innocent and I backed away. _

_"You should have got to me faster… You should have gone after Ponyboy," Johnny spoke in a harsh tone I had never heard him use before,but the words were familiar"Your parents are dead because of you... That Soc I killed is dead because of you…I burned because of you!"_

_I turned, looking for Rivers, looking for Morrosco, Prather, anyone, but I was alone with Johnny. I turned back around and he was gone, too. There was nothing to suggest any of them had ever been there. I planted a hand on my shoulder, meaning to cling to the strap of my rifle, but it was missing, along with my pack. I tried to find my weapons but they where gone, too. I was shaking and feeling sick by then. I was as good as naked without anything to defend myself with. The VC would kill me or worse; catch me. I shot around towards the way we had come only to be stopped by someone else who should have been dead,__ someone I was more shocked to see than any other I had run into._

_"Dally," it was barely a whisper as the bullet-riddled body approached me, looking much like Pony and Johnny had_

_"You," Dally hissed right before jumping at me_

_It was like fighting a zombie. He wrapped his hands around my neck and none of the punches and kicks I issued did any good. I panicked then. He was going to kill me. Not my best friend and not a person, but this shell. I managed to roll on top and reached down for my own chokehold. I knew I could kill him, then…_

A hand came down on my shoulder, warm and reassuring as the fight disappeared from my mind. Rivers had stopped it then. He wouldn't have me fighting like that jeopardize the mission. But he was dead…I grabbed the wrist on my shoulder. It was too strong to be Rivers'. I opened my eyes to find the whole room was lighted. Darry was looking back at me with concern in his expression. I noticed both of his hands were on my shoulders and he was letting up on the pressure. I frowned and looked over at where Soda and Pony were standing by the closet looking worried. I blinked and looked back at Darry.

"You were yelling and thrashing," Darry explained letting go of me.

I sat up and rubbed my eye with the palm of my hand for a minute. I'd had that dream, again. From the look on their faces it had been pretty bad and I had given them a good scare. I shifted over so Darry could sit down and motioned for Soda to turn off the lights. I could see better with them off. Pony inched closer to the bed and sat down on his own side with Soda's arm around his shoulder. He was looking at me with wide eyes that reminded me of that dream. They weren't accusing me, but they were giving me that unblinking stare. I wanted to shake him, to force him to blink, but he did on his own and I sighed with relief. Darry had that same unblinking stare, but his was more worried than either of my other brothers.

"This is the third night in a row," Darry pointed out "I think we need to talk about this."

"What's there to talk about? It's always the same one. This makes the seventh time I've had it since I left the hospital," I answered sitting up and feeling shaky "You know that, so theres nothing else to say."

"Do you remember it?" Soda asked with some seriousness in his voice. It was a fair question; Pony couldn't remember his.

"Every moment of it," I answered evenly

I sighed and told them all about the dream I had been having. There was no interruption from any of them and I was grateful. I needed to get it all out while I could remember it fresh, so I wouldn't leave anything out. I highly doubted I would ever leave anything out. That dream was seared into my mind and would be for all my livelong days. When I had finished Darry was looking thoughtful while Soda was still soaking it in and Ponyboy looked like he had gone off into his own little world.

"What did the doctors at the hospital say?" Darry asked

"They said I was hallucinating. I was on so many drugs for a lot of my stay that they said they'd most likely induced it. I was fine when I went and joined up with Richards and his company. I never had it once while I was with them. I would have got us all killed, if I had," I explained thinking that was the most truthful thing I had ever spoken

"You said you've had it since," Darry pressed

"Yeah, on the plane," I answered nodding "Then again when I was in Houston and once on the road, but I don't think it was that bad then. This time was the worst. I'd never gotten the upper hand before. I always woke up when he started choking me."

Dar looked over at Soda and shared a look with him that clearly said that he didn't know what to do. Soda looked at me and back to Darry with that same helpless look on his face. Pony avoided my gaze. I sighed, thinking I was going crazy. Normal people didn't have dreams like these. But Ponyboy did. He wasn't crazy, but he hadn't seen that place…

"I know the place," I said suddenly "We were there, to ambush some VC's, but Morrosco fell through a bunch of rotted foliage and things went to hell after that. No casualties on our side, but Morrosco took a bullet and Rivers was drug back by Tolliver. We all thought he was dead – he was drenched in blood…"

I glanced at my audience and shut my mouth. We were on a classified mission. I couldn't tell them what had gone on, I couldn't even think about it myself. But mostly, I couldn't deal with the looks they were throwing me. They really had no idea what it was like over there... I envied them

"It was a long time ago," I stated with a shrug in my voice

"Did all those people you fought with, did they all…die?" Ponyboy asked softly

I wasn't sure how to respond. We'd walked into the middle of a battleground. Lew had been torn in two, Morrosco was down, Jackson was screaming…

"Yeah. If they were lucky, they did,"

I grabbed my pillow and tossed off the covers before moving past Darry and walking to the living room without a further word. I tossed my pillow on the couch and pulled the blanket down off the back of it. No one followed me out and I was thankful for that. I needed to be alone. I wasn't sure why, but it was most likely the guilt of what I'd just said. No one deserved to die like that, but living after all that had happened to you… Damn, you where better off dead.

I flopped onto my side and stared into the darkness, trying not to think. We were as close as brothers and I had the gall to wish them dead. God, what was wrong with me?

"If they're lucky," I repeated to the dark room "They're all better off than I am."

/-/-/-/-/

The next morning I was up with the dawn and gone before anyone else in the house was awake. I was in a destructive mood and knew the only way to get rid ofit was to run it off, destroy something or go ride that stupid horse hard enough so that if either of us blinked wrong we'd be wishing we were never born. I was smart enough to know I'd regret the latter two tomorrow and settled for a run. I ran as hard and as fast as I could before finally having to stop at the far end of The Ribbon. I considered walking into the Soc's territory, but it didn't seem worth it. With a sigh, I decided exactly what I wanted to do. I picked up the stick by my feet and swung right at the nearest car window.

/-/-/-/-/-/

Handcuffs almost seemed foreign to me now, too. I smirked, wondering if people would laugh if I told them that. The cop who was marching me into the police station wouldn't, but I didn't know him. He must have been new because I hadn't been gone that long.

"…and you're gonna pay for that window, even if I have to take it out of our hide! 'Call a cop, I'll go down town' that's bullshit…"

I was really starting to wonder if I picked the most talkative guy parked on The Ribbon to piss off. He was at least part Mexican, short and hadn't shut up since he came out of one of the bars to see what was happening to his precious car. I was almost looking forward to being booked, if it would get me some peace and quiet. The cop shoved me into one of the chairs and told me someone would come and deal with me in a minute before marching off towards the door to the Detectives' offices. The owner of the car followed him to the door, chatting the whole way, only to have it shut in his face. I didn't blame the cop one bit there.

"What you grinning at?"

"Nothing important, Señor," I answered still grinning

"You have no right to grin! You broke the law and you no even care! Well, Pedro Minos is no one to be pushed around!" he declared stepping closer to me "And no Gringo is going to get away with pushing me around! I worked hard to earn money ad live in America. I do not need to have punk kids busting windows..."

I nodded, looking around the room, taking in the familiar sights of the reception desk and the door off to the holding cells. How often had I been in there? It seemed like too many to count. Then there was the door to where Pripich and O'Toole had their lockers with the rest of the cops. I should have asked the cop to ask them out, but I figured they would be, anyways.

"Morning, Pripich." Speak of the Devil

"I need a copy of the reports sent over this morning from Oklahoma City," Pripich said, ignoring the greeting the cop at the receptionist desk had given him

"O'Toole already grabbed them," the receptionist answered in a bored tone

Pripich nodded, signed in and turned, only to stop so he could stare wide-eyed at me. I smiled and nodded, not being able to wave as he paled and then smiled, shaking himself a bit.

"I almost forgot they were twins," Pripich said to himself before going through the same door the earlier cop had

"Your poor Madre," Minos said shaking his head at me "Two of you to cause trouble! What does he do? Steal the hubcaps while you break the windows?"

"Well, I'm the trouble maker," I said straining my shoulder to see if I could still get the cuffs in front of me "And there were four of us, but it's Steve who lifts hubcaps, not Sodapop."

That seemed to shut him up for thirty seconds before he started talking in Spanish. I wasn't paying attention. I almost had enough of a stretch to pull my feet through. The last time I had done this was before the fire and before those shards of glass had ripped open the skin and muscles on my shoulder. Maybe that was why it was hard this time or maybe it had finally healed and I was doing something stupid to myself. It wouldn't have been the first time, I reminded myself, pulling my legs through the loop my arms made. I grinned triumphantly and rested my hands on my legs.

"Hey! He's no allowed to do that!" Minos pointed at me while yelling at the cop at reception who could have cared less what I was up to as long as I wasn't causing trouble.

Just then O'Toole and Pripich burst through the door looking like they had both seen a ghost. I smiled and waved as they both blinked back at me.

"Sweet Mary, Mother of God," O'Toole stated

"It can't be! Curtis, quit pretending to be Curtis!" Pripich ordered

"I don't think he's pretending," O'Toole said quietly

"No…No! It can't be! It's not fair!" Pripich said with a few curses following "He's supposed to be dead!"

I shrugged, trying not to grin at the ridiculous looks on their faces when O'Toole grinned himself.

"You always swore Curtis and Winston would haunt you, even in death," O'Toole reminded

"Oh, shut up. What are you doing here, Curtis?" Pripich demanded

"I'll tell you, if you get these off," I said motioning to the handcuffs

"You cannot do that!" Minos yelled as O'Toole took off the cuffs "He broke the law."

"Oh, is that so?" O'Toole asked trying not to smile at me "And what did you do this time?"

"Broke a window," I replied with a shrug

"Not just any window! He smashed my windshield for no reason!" Minos explained, pointing an accusatory finger at me

"Oh, I see," O'Toole looked thoughtful "And why did you do that, Pepsi?"

"How else was I going to get in here?" I shrugged

"You could have walked through the front door," Pripich pointed out "It's not illegal to do that!"

"And ruin my rep?" I asked and O'Toole nodded while Pripich gave an exaggerated sigh

"Well, breaking the window was wrong and we'll have to book you for destruction of personal property," O'Toole sighed

"You see! No one messes with Pedro Minos!" Minos snapped pointing a finger at me

"All we'll need is a statement from this gentleman along with proof of ownership of the car and a green card," O'Toole explained and Minos' eyes bulged with panic "Unless, of course, you might be willing to drop the charges, that is, and perhaps Pepsi could pay for the damages?"

Minos looked like he was doing some fast thinking before finally glaring at me, nto at all happy.

"All I want is it fixed," he said grudgingly

"Here," I said walking over to the reception desk and borrowed a pen and a slip of paper "Take your car to this DX and ask for Steve Randale. Tell him Pepsi Curtis will pay him back tonight."

"This same Steve who steals hubcaps?" Minos asked suspiciously

"No, this is the mechanic Steve," I assured him, handing him the paper "You take it there and he'll fix it for you. If he gets stubborn, ask for Sodapop Curtis."

"Your twin?" he asked

"No, we're not related," I answered as O'Toole gave me a warning glance

Minos was out the door a few minutes later and I was face to face with Pripich and O'Toole. I noticed they weren't wearing uniforms and smiled.

"Finally made you detectives, did they?" I asked knowing that was the answer

"Oh, come off it! Anyone could see that! Why are you here?" Pripich demanded

"I was hoping for a word with Detective O'Toole," I said thumbing at him

"Then I'm going back to work and I'd better never see you come in here with cuffs on again, Curtis. I looked at your record," he added needlessly "One slip and I'll put you away."

I sighed. That was his way of showing he cared and I knew he really didn't want to put me away, well, I hoped that was it, at least.

"Come on, son. We'll talk out back," O'Toole said laying a hand on my shoulder

I let O'Toole steer me out the only door I had never entered in the entire building: the rear exit. I almost felt complete at that moment, knowing that every square inch of that building had been looked at and/or walked over by myself personally, even the records room and the Chief's office. I could still remember the dirty looks he gave me for that one…

"Alright, what do you want to talk about?" O'Toole asked sitting down on the back step and inviting me to do the same

I sighed and sat down myself. What had I wanted to talk about? I hadn't really planned it out. I just wanted to talk to Dad, to an adult who knew me for who I really was. Well, he wasn't Dad, but he was the only adult I was on speaking terms with or had been. I sighed, here goes nothing.

"You and Dad, you fought in the war together," I stated simply

"Yeah, we did, but that was another time all together, son," O'Toole sighed, "nothing like your war."

"Do you ever think about the people you killed?" I asked looking off towards where there was a tree across the parking lot

"I'd be a liar to say I didn't," he answered "But I did my duty and I live with it."

"I remember every man I've killed, except one."

"That's normally how it goes," O'Toole replied and I could feel his eyes on me "But it was a war."

"No, this boy wasn't during the war," I answered stiffly not waiting for O'Toole to interrupt me "I don't know his name, his hair color, his eyes or even how he died."

"Sometimes you're better off not knowing and don't even ask, Pepsi-cola," O'Toole warned me "You can't see our files on the case, and even if we could get them from Oklahoma City, you still couldn't see them. You're not cleared for that information. It's secure."

"Classified," I sighed translating the local term to the military term "I don't see why I can't see it. I'm the convicted murderer."

"It was manslaughter. You're not a murderer, son. If I could have spoken up for you, I would have. But instead I was here, running a missing person's on you so your brother would relax a little. I still feel sick when I think about how that rich man kept your trial so quiet that Pripich and me didn't even know. Not even your own brother knew."

I nodded, seeing the scene in my head. Darry would have been worried after two days and asked around. He would have finally gone to O'Toole after 3 days and he would have been here almost every day after until my note came from Oklahoma City – where the trial was – with a copy of my sentence. I suppose I was lucky I was on the other side of the world. Darry would have killed me if I had have been within range.

"Listen to me, son." O'Toole was looking me in the eye as seriously as he had the morning Ponyboy and Johnny had gone missing after Bob Sheldon was stabbed "You may think this is the only way to get a clear conscience, but it'll make you feel worse than you do now about a nameless, faceless loss. You need to find another way to put your conscience to rest."

"And how did you put yours to rest?" I asked distractedly

"I had a couple kids in the name of peace and have been mediating their wars since he was six and she was four." O'Toole smiled at the memory "It's different for everyone. Your father, God rest him, had your mother, God rest her. You have to find something of your own to make it all just."

We sat on the steps in silence for a while before O'Toole finally stood up and stretched, looking at me thoughtfully.

"Your father would be proud of you, son. Talking about it is something that his pride never could let him do."

I nodded as O'Toole went back into the station and I was alone on the back step. I sighed and shook my head. He hadn't got it at all. I wasn't looking to clear my conscience about that kid or the people I killed in Nam. I'd like to have said I was planning to clear my name, but everyone who grew up in Tulsa could have told you that was a waste of time. I didn't know what I wanted. Maybe I was just looking to clear my conscience about the ones I couldn't save. Rivers, Morrosco, Jackson, Johnny…Lily…Dallas… Maybe if I had something else to torture myself with during the day, I wouldn't be torturing my brothers and myself at night through my dreams. I sighed.

What I wouldn't have given for something as simple as a dead Soc in the park.

* * *

Well, I didn't like that chapter so much. So I don' really think it bothers me if no one else does. I like chapter six so far, so there's something to look forward to. 

As always, any comments at all are welcome and flames are accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!

Tens


	7. Things Left Unsaid

Alrighty then. This is the fifth draft of this chapter and I think I am going to go insane if I even attempt to write it again. This one is the best of the five, but I really don't expect anyone to like it. It just sets up the next chapter and it could have been skipped and left as a footnote or something in the next chapter, but hey. Why not?

Disclaimer: The usual

On with the show!

Chapter Six: Things Left Unsaid

"What are you doing in there?" A voice asked mixed between shock and anger

I turned to where there was a kid of maybe fifteen gaping at me like I was on the top floor of a downtown building ready to jump. It was obvious to see he figured himself a wrangler with that cowboy hat on and a real Soc look to him. He needed to grow up and learn to avoid people who had no reservations against beating the bloody hell out of him. I scowled at him, but didn't pause in my brushing of Goblin. I was pretty sure he was just waiting for me to forget he was there and then he'd remind me with a good, solid stomp on my foot. Evil should have been this horse's middle name.

"I said what are you doing in there?" he repeated, "Only local staff is allowed in there."

"I'm talking to Goblin," I answered not bothering to tell him I was a local

I doubt he would have believed me, anyways. There was a big rodeo going on through the weekend and I had seen different brands from all over the country and out of the country - That poor Canadian was going to get beat out of this competition but it was good for a laugh when that happened. There were so many strange folks wandering around that it was a wonder there was room enough to breathe in here. Goblin felt it and he was more ornery than usual. I was a little put off by it, but that could have been the fact that I wasn't participating in the rodeo events this year and that it had almost been a day since I had had the time to eat anything. I'd hardly had the time to do anything but be here with that horse. I'd had him so brushed and clean that he looked like milk. He'd been drilled so much that I was sure he would tell me where to go if I even reached for that bridle again. And everyone had seen what an angel he was. They were all in for a surprise.

"_Francisco_ doesn't need to be talked to. You should get out of there before he kicks you," the kid advised breaking my train of thought

"He won't kick me. We're old pals," I said and Goblin stomped, his ears going back "Ok, we're old mutual acquaintances."

"You're crazy. Absolutely insane!" he still looked shocked "Get out of there before you get hurt and I get in trouble."

I glared back at him again and absently scratched Goblin behind the ears. He pricked them back up again, but I could tell he didn't like this kids half as much as I did. I brushed out a few of the tangles from his hair absently, trying to figure out if I knew this kid from somewhere. I wasn't making any connections, which meant he wasn't worth my time.

"I wouldn't do that. He hates being brushed," the kid spoke again and I was surprisingly annoyed

"And how the hell would you know what he likes and don't like?" I asked running the brush along the side of my leg to get the white hairs off it

"I've worked here for the last year. I've seen him bite, kick and stomp on people and other horses," the guy answered looking proud, "It don't take a genius."

That was obvious. I didn't answer him as I slithered back along the side of the stall so I could reach the other side of Goblin's back. He would have flattened anyone who went behind him, but I was just lucky some days. Either that, or he was smart enough to know I was the only thing keeping him from being pestered by brats like this kid. I wouldn't put it past him. He was one hell of a thinker; you could see it in the way he looked at things.

"Horse, you have a tougher rep than I do these days," I commented and Goblin nibbled at hay idly.

"You know what? I'm just going to go and get my boss," the kid said darting off towards the barn doors

"Better yet, get Buck Merrill and tell him to bring me a beer," I called after him

Once he was gone, I sighed and stiffly pulled myself up so I was sitting on the stall wall. Goblin didn't seem to care and I suddenly wished I were a horse. To have no cares in the world would be nothing less than bliss. I shook my head at my own stupidity then. Why would I want to be a smelly creature that stands around eating and shitting all day long?

I sighed and rubbed at my arm a bit. That damn horse had had a fit earlier before that kid showed up and knocked the hell out of my right side. Now he looked like a bloody angel. That was fine with me. I was looking forward to the show when all the cowboys would sign up to ride him during the show. He was one horse that just bucked for the hell of it and he knew his business when they led him into the shoot and climbed on his back. Racing was different. That horse loved to run and have his head when he was doing that. And when he had a rider on his back that could give him his head…well, he wasn't a prize horse for nothing. That's one of the reasons Dally and him always got along so well. The horse was nearly as wild as Dallas was, so the pair of them were wilder together than any other racing team I had ever seen. I just hoped I had become wild enough to do the same.

I pulled one foot up onto the wall and let the other dangle into Goblin's stall before I idly picked a piece of hay from the bushel in there and let it hang out of the side of my mouth. Damn, did I feel like a hick right then.

"So, Francisco?" I asked and Goblin's ears went back immediately "I don't blame ya. If my parents had have called me that, I would have gone by something else, too. That kid nearly flipped when I called you Goblin. You know, I still think we should have called you something meaner. Like Satan or Diablo or something –"

That's as far as I got before that damn horse kicked the side of the stall I was sitting on and I lost my balance, tumbling over into the next stall. I barely had the chance to roll as close to the wall as I could and cover my head with my arms before the horse in the next stall jumped wildly to get as far away from me as possible. I cursed loudly and laid still until he – and from this angle I was pretty damn sure it was a he – settled down enough so he wasn't hopping and stomping all over the stall. When I thought it was safe, I pulled myself up and climbed back onto that wall. Goblin was still munching on hay and I wanted to hurt him.

"You did that on purpose and if we didn't have that damn race tonight, I would wallop you one good!" I snapped

This time, I was ready for when he kicked at the wall and I reached up and held onto one of the higher beams that made up the roof of this stall. Lily had told me once it was better that the horses all had high vaulted ceilings where they were, but right then I was glad the Slash J was so cheap. I scowled at that horse as I climbed along the wall and over the pen to the outside. We both glared at each other and I was tempted to start a one sided cussing match when the kid started hollering again.

"There he is! He was in the stall with Francisco!"

"Ok, horse. You want me to come back, then you put on the right show," I muttered to Goblin before turning to see whom the kid had bothered to dig up

"Well, I'll be damned! Here the kid had me thinking that I had some unsavory character from out of town stirring things up and it was just Curtis. When the hell did you quit the DX?"

I sighed and shook my head at Jeff. He wasn't the brightest guy out there, but he had always been a good person. He had run the stables since before Dally and I joined on with Buck and it looked like he was still running them. I straightened up a bit and wiped some of the straw off me, thinking of how I wanted to handle the situation. I sighed inwardly. This was Jeff I was standing in front of. Simple was the name of the game.

"Soda still works at the DX, but it's nice to see you can place a last name still, Jeff," I replied

"Good one. Now, what brings you around here?" he asked

"I came to see Goblin here," I answered

"He means Francisco," the kid piped in and Jeff waved him off

"Yeah?" Jeff removed his cowboy hat and ran his hand through his blonde hair "That's nice of you. He ain't been the same since Winston died and then Pepsi-cola stopped comin' by and he got real mean…well, meaner. I'm damn sorry about him dieing over there on Chink soil. He died with his boots on and a Commie on the end of his rifle, though, and that's all his country could ask of him."

I rolled my eyes. Jeff was simpler than I thought. I hated this. I was just going to have to stick a sign on my forehead telling everyone I was alive. I took a minute and explained it to Jeff. He was looking at me with wide eyes and whistled low and long when I was done. Like I said, he was simple, and I'm sure he was the most suspicious fucker in Tulsa because of it. When he finally was sure I was me, he smiled a bit and welcomed me back. All the while, the kid was staring at us like he'd been denied a treat. I wasn't surprised when he came roaring to life all of a sudden.

"Jeff, he was in there with _Francisco_," he repeated the obvious "You said you'd fire us if we even thought about that."

"Matt, this here is Pepsi-cola Curtis. He is just about the toughest sonofabitch I have ever met. If he wants to be in any stall with any horse, you don't bat an eyelash. Why, the last time this boy rode, he out lasted the bull he was on because he was too damn stubborn to let go. Either that, or the crazy glue the boys put on his glove earlier kept him seated on that bull for about ten minutes."

I smirked. "It was a little of both, Jeff."

"Then there was that time you tangoed with that mountain lion. You should see this bastard's shoulder…"

I wasn't paying too much attention any more and I didn't care if Jeff was getting his stories mixed up. I was watching the kid. He was giving Jeff and me the dirtiest looks he could muster. I just stood there and nodded along whenever Jeff hit me on the back enthusiastically. You'd think I was a good friend of his rather than the guy who managed to nearly drive him crazy every night I rode with the Slash J. I found it kind of funny, mostly because the kid looked like he was going to start a bout of steam through his ears. All I could help thinking was that I would give them a show to remember tonight.

A while later Jeff left saying there was something in his eye, leaving just me and the kid. I patted Goblin on the nose before silently leaving the barns and heading for home. I never ate on the day of a rodeo, but Darry seemed to think my tradition needed to be broken by one of his own – trying to get me to eat. I wasn't going to disappoint him by being too late and he was going to try his hardest, that was for sure. I walked in the house to the delicious smell of baked beans and broiled burgers. It was heaven to the nose and it made me pretty damn hungry, but remembering the way those bulls thrashed around and the way Goblin would push me, I decided I could pass and heat it all up in the oven later that night so I didn't end up throwing most of it up. I sighed, figuring I would have to ignore the celebratory drink that Buck always insisted on or I would be the cheapest drunk in the place. And with my rep, I couldn't afford to be.

"I was expecting you home an hour ago," Darry commented coming out of the kitchen with a tea towel over his shoulder

"I got busy at the stables." I shrugged "Jeff Nash over at the Slash J."

Darry merely nodded. He had met Jeff a few times and even went to school with him for a while, if memory serves right, but they had never been buddies. Jeff seemed to think that everyone was his buddy, though, so it could have very well have been on sided. He knew what he was like, though, and I knew he understood completely.

"Well, supper's almost ready."

"I'm not hungry, Darry."

"You really should eat something. You'll need something in you before Buck breaks out the booze."

"I'll lay off the booze tonight. I don't feel much like drinking anyways." I shrugged

"You say that every time."

"I mean it this time, though."

Darry sighed and shook his head and I couldn't help but give a little grin. Some things just didn't change and I was glad for that.

"Soda and I were talking this morning. He and I were thinking that you need a night out. I can get all of you in free, if you want to come."

"We'll see. Soda and I probably could make it. Ponyboy got asked to work for a while tonight," Darry answered leaning against the wall

"Hell, I'd be proud if even the pair of you would come," I said meaning it "You haven't come to a show since Soda quit."

"I know."

And that was all there was to it. Darry was never one to explain himself to anyone, even me. Sometimes I thought it was a good thing, like I did now, but sometimes I wondered if it was just his way of keeping some distance from the harshest bit of reality. He may have been superman, but he was also just Darry.

"If I win any money tonight," I started "I think I'll start saving it up."

"Oh? And what are you going to buy, little man?" Darry asked as I sat down on the couch

"A car," I answered "So I can get the hell out of here."

Darry studied me for a minute and I closed my eyes. Sometimes I didn't explain myself, either, and I know that sometimes Darry would have preferred I did. I think he was leaning towards that tonight, but he didn't say anything. He just sat down beside me on the couch and set a hand on my shoulder, just like he had the day it hit me hard that Dallas was dead and gone and never coming back. I wasn't sure why he was doing it this time, but I was grateful for it all the same. And that was the way we sat until Soda asked what was burning and Darry jumped up to go and salvage dinner. I opened my eyes and wished I wasn't so damn chicken. I never could thank him for anything and it was the same now. Maybe if I had a little more courage I could have told him how much I appreciated some of the things he did. He always managed to say the right thing and made me feel better about everything. Then there were the other times when he just let me know I wasn't alone.

Some times I loved him most for the things he didn't say.

/Darry's POV/

It was past midnight when we finally made it home. I wasn't mad anymore, but I was plenty disappointed in Pepsi-cola and pretty annoyed with him because of it and it had me in a bit of a grumpy mood. He said he hadn't planned on drinking, but Buck can be mighty persuasive, especially when all the riders were sitting there wondering if, and this is word for word what Pepsi-cola told me, 'if he was man enough to be there'. What can I say? Pepsi had never been one to say no to peer pressure, upholding his pride, and drinking at the same time. Heaven help Ponyboy if he ever starts picking up that habit. As one could imagine, Pepsi was pretty damn drunk by the time I got to him and he was grinning like no tomorrow. I couldn't begrudge him the last part. He hadn't been happy since he got home. I almost was happy to see him grinning like that, before the stench of alcohol hit me and it took about everything I had not to yell at him right then and there. To think I had thought he was happy about winning that race…

Two-Bit was sitting on the couch when we walked in. He was reading through a magazine, but he looked up when we came in. He sent me an odd look from where I was holding up Pepsi-cola and I sighed in return.

"Hi," he offered putting down the magazine "Have fun at the races?"

"Hell ya!" Pepsi slurred

"Well," Two-Bit raised an eyebrow "Someone's drunk."

"Yeah, he's drunk," I said glaring at Pepsi who had opened his mouth to say something "I should have expected this, but after the whole speech he gave me on not planning to get drunk, I let my guard down."

"I am not –" Pepsi started to tell me something – most likely that he wasn't drunk – but I just plain didn't give me the chance

"Yes, you are," I said firmly "I haven't seen you this drunk since I got drafted."

Pepsi frowned at me until a look of realization came over his face. It wouldn't have surprised me if he had forgotten. He didn't like to remember the things that hurt and he was drunk to top it off. Well, I could easily refresh his memory for him. It was about two months before he got sentenced to Vietnam. I had received my letter in the mail saying I had been drafted and it was a real shocker. The scary part was that since Sodapop and Pepsi were both 18, there was a pretty damn good possibility that they could have become Ponyboy's guardians. Hell, one of them could have been and the army could have easily drafted the other one. The system was screwed up and Pepsi chose to handle it with an old stand by he had sworn he'd given up: alcohol. So, he did something stupid and left the house and then ended up at Buck's for two days. When I told him the last part he hadn't believed me, but some people honestly do lose track of time when they get so drunk they pathetically can't crawl out the front door. I knew where he would have gone but it had taken me a few days to cool down about everything enough to finally bother to track him down, drag him home, and sit with him through the worst hangovers of his short life.

I knew he was upset, but he had handled it the wrong way and I was so disappointed in him that it hurt. He had tried to run away and hide in a bottle while we needed him to be there and be part of our family. What made it worse was that he was so miserable that I didn't have time for anyone else to be miserable and I couldn't stay mad at him. He wouldn't be my outlet for all the anger I felt, like he had on so many other occasions, and it didn't help my disposition any. I guess there was a plus side. I couldn't be miserable for myself and getting mad didn't ever help. So I was just there, working hard to get what needed to be done accomplished. And it kept me sane.

At that point, Pepsi and I had become friends again. It was my job to understand and I understood perfectly. If I went off to Nam, I knew there was a slim possibility I would see him or Soda or Ponyboy again. I guess he knew it, too, and he was out to make up lost time. He didn't go back to Buck's. He was around the all the time and stalked me wherever I went in the house. If I closed a door, he was on the other side of it and if I went anywhere, he was the one to jump up and go with me. As touching as it was, it had started to drive me a little crazy after a while, and it was the exact opposite as I would have expected him to act. I could have sworn he and Soda were trying to be funny by switching roles for the week if the situation hadn't been so serious. Soda was the one who managed to be the most distanced and he helped to hold all of us together, insisting that they would have to change their minds and I was going to stay home, if he had anything to say about it. I suppose Ponyboy was just lost through it all. Whatever happened to me would directly affect him. He didn't say anything, but I knew it hit him hard, too. He couldn't help but notice how hard Pepsi was taking it and he probably got it better than any of us because he could remember going through the same thing. He'd lost Johnny in that hospital room. He knew what it was like to wait to be told when your best friend was going to die.

They shouldn't have worried. I fought tooth and nail to stay here and finally managed to get it through the social service people's heads that Soda and Pepsi couldn't take care of a gold fish, let alone Ponyboy, and that I was the only one that could. But that week had been one of the worst we'd had since Mom and Dad died. Losing Johnny and Dallas was tough, but to Pepsi-cola just the thought of losing me must have been a hell of a lot worse. He never told me, but one night I did overhear him tell Soda what it all came down to in his mind.

_"…How can you sit there and be so damn confident that he will be ok?"_

_"Pepsi, what good does it do to pretend he's on his death bed?"_

_"I have not been –"_

_"Yes, you have. And short of driving Darry crazy, you haven't accomplished anything. What's the good in that?"_

_"I don't know, Soda. I just…I won't loose my best friend again. I can't," Pepsi declared "He said once that he couldn't promise me he would be around forever, but…this is too damn soon."_

_"He could come out of all this just fine. You can't assume the worst, not when he's not even gone and when there is a possibility he might not even go at all."_

_"And if goes and the worst happens?"_

_"Then we'll have to handle it when it comes," Soda said evenly_

_Pepsi had sighed and put his head in his hands at that point. Soda had placed a hand on his shoulder and they sat like that for a while._

_"This scares the hell out of me, Soda."_

_"It scares me, too."_

_"You sure don't show it."_

_"One of us needs to put up the tough front. It's just my turn."_

_"We need him," Pepsi stated, "If it weren't for him, we would have ended up in a boys home somewhere and we would have fallen apart without him a long time ago. Who's to say we won't when he goes? We're all we have left. Why can't they just leave us the hell alone?"_

_"Hey, it'll be alright. He's not gone yet," Soda had reminded him in a soothing voice_

_"I know. But I wish they would just get on with it. I don't think anything could hurt more than just waiting…"_

"I'm not drunk," Pepsi said trying to push my helping arm away and bringing me back to the present "I'm just still dizzy from that ride."

"That was an hour ago," I reminded and Pepsi frowned

Two-Bit laughed right about then and I wanted to throw something at him, but I was pretty sure I would have missed and broke our only lamp or ended up dropping Pepsi. Either way, I would have a mess to clean up.

"Sure you are," Soda said sincerely, putting his hand on Pepsi's free shoulder "That ride would have left anyone dizzy."

"Yeah." Pepsi nodded along

"Alright. Walk to the couch on your own then and we'll see how sober you are," I challenged, letting go of him

I could tell he wasn't ready for that and he nearly fell over, but Sodapop had a hold of him still and he managed to keep Pepsi upright. When he had a bit of his balance, I waved Soda off and let Pepsi make his way over to the couch. He swayed a few times, but he made it. He was too stubborn not to. He did look like he was going to be sick then, but instead he looked over at me with big, astonished eyes.

"Darry…I think I'm drunk…"

"Get a load of this kid," Two-Bit laughed, "He sounds like he just figured that out!"

Pepsi made a swipe at Two-Bit that missed and he nearly ended up falling off the couch. He still had a bit of that astonished look on his face as he looked back over at me.

"Lily used to say something about admittance," he slurred and I was surprised that Soda understood him

"She was talking about drinking," Soda said sitting down beside Pepsi "And how admitting you have a problem with alcohol was the first step to getting over it."

"I admit I'm drunk. Can I get over it yet?"

I felt a small smile creep to my lips, but I was still annoyed with him and nothing was going to change that. Two-Bit laughed and stood up to stretch.

"You know, as much as I love seeing this kid acting so loose, I think I'll be heading home."

"You're welcome to sleep on the couch," Soda offered

"No, I'm not," Two-Bit offered looking briefly at Pepsi "Night, y'all. Have fun."

We all called good night, some of us in actual words rather than slurred tones, and Sodapop had his turn to be the one to sigh.

"I forgot." He shrugged looking at Pepsi hopelessly

Ever since Pepsi started having these nightmares, he'd ended up on the couch at one point in the night or another. I finally suggested he switch beds with Soda so Ponyboy could at least get some sleep at night. He was too tired around his job to be getting no sleep at night and Pepsi knew I was right. It was a strange bed and it probably made those dreams worse, but he never lasted the night in it, anyways. That stupid couch was his best friend and heaven help anyone who was dumb enough to be sleeping there when he woke up. Two-Bit had been manhandled, twice, and Steve had been unceremoniously tossed off it last night, but both of them knew what was going on and neither had been looking for a fight. Steve had left and Two-Bit had grumbled before heading down the hall to Soda's room. It was mean of him, but he got his share of the sour looks they gave him the next morning and nothing was ever really said about it. It bugged me that our open door policy was crumbling around us but it bugged me a hell of a lot more that I couldn't do anything at all for him and it scared the hell out of me to see him thrashing and yelling like that. Ponyboy's nightmares had never been that bad and he didn't have them anymore. Back when he did, the doc had prescribed so much activity that he would be too worn out to have those dreams. Well, from the way Pepsi was working down at the Slash J and coming home exhausted the way he was, I was beginning to think nothing was going to help. I really wanted him to see the doctor, but now wasn't the time to bring it up. He was too drunk and I was too tired.

"What's going on?"

"Hiya, Ponykid." Pepsi grinned not opening his eyes, "I'm drunk."

"I'm sure he would have figured that out," I sighed glancing at where Ponyboy was standing in his work clothes looking tired "How was work?"

"It was fine. I never mind working the closing shift," Ponyboy answered, "I take it he won."

None of us had to answer him but Pepsi-cola grinned a little wider anyway. I suppose he was proud of himself. He had stupidly ridden an insane horse in a race he was guaranteed to lose and had come out a winner. I was proud of him for that, but after that…I was just going to have to yell at him tomorrow when the hangover had set in. Sometimes it was a pain to be your little brother's best friend and big brother. He'd understand, though. He always did. It was just something left unsaid between us around all the yelling.

Sometimes, it was better that way.

* * *

Well, that is the end of a very long, time consuming, yada, yada, yada, chapter. Here's hoping someone enjoyed because I did. 

Any comments at all are welcome and flames are accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!

Tens


	8. Constant Reminders

Now here is a chapter I can actually say I like. Amazing, huh? Well, hey. It was bound to happen one of these days. I hope everyone enjoys because I enjoyed writing it.

Disclaimer: The usual

On with the show!

Chapter 7: Constant Reminders

The next morning I woke up with the pre-dawn light. I was on the couch, but I couldn't remember how I got there. In fact, the last thing I remembered was Buck shoving that glass of Vodka into my hand and everything after that was hazy. I did remember being sick last night and Darry there just sitting with me. I guess it was the little things that really came to you when you were drinking. You're name and how you got home were later coming.

I slowly sat up on the couch, feeling less hung-over than I had a right to be, especially after a single glass had had me drunk off my ass. I let my head rest in my hands for a moment while I let the world and my stomach settle down again. I was hungry beyond all reason, but I knew I wouldn't be able to eat anything until I had moved around for a bit. When I finally thought it was ok to look at the world again, I let my hands down and looked around the room. It was early, pre-sunrise early. One of my favorite times of the day over there in Nam. If you were going to be attacked, then you could expect it and if it never came, then you got to see one hell of a sunrise. I had never really understood a sunrise until I had sat through my first wait for the attack that never came. It reminded me what I was fighting for. Now, it wasn't anything as pansy assed as fighting for a bright tomorrow or to kill the communists. I was fighting for something else entirely. I was fighting to get home. I was fighting so Ponyboy could watch his sunrises here, on our front porch, hoping that maybe he was thinking of good things while he did and not death. That was what was keeping me going and I thanked them every damn day for being here while I was there. One day, I would tell them. They probably would have just told me it wasn't anything, but it was. It was my world and they were it. Darry, Soda, Ponyboy, Two-Bit, and even Steve.

"Are you going to throw up again?"

I glanced over at where Darry appeared to be asleep in his chair. He had sat with me, again. That stubborn…I wanted to shake my head, but I knew better. I would throw up if I made myself dizzy enough.

"No. I'm done," I answered in a croaky voice as I eased myself up off the couch "I think I'm going to take a shower."

"What time is it?"

"Early," I answered shuffling across the floor to his chair

"Anytime before noon is early to you," Darry yawned

"The sun's not up. Go back to sleep, Darry," I said patting him on the shoulder

He didn't say anything else and I knew he would be asleep as soon as he heard the shower running. He was just like that. As soon as he knew he didn't have to take care of me, he would take care of himself. I vaguely remember him daring me to walk the floor last night and I started taking actual steps right then rather than shuffling. It hurt the throbbing of my head a little more than I would have liked, but I'm sure Darry felt a bit better and that was my good deed for the whole day. Now I could go back to being mean and ornery. I suppose Darry had done his good deed for the year last night. He sat with me, even though he was so tired he was almost asleep at the rodeo and Soda was full of energy and would have gladly done it. I was kind of glad Darry had decided to. Soda was nicer while I was drunk, but if Darry sat up with me all night, he was less inclined to yell the next morning. With Sodapop, I got the full out yelling when Darry got up the next morning. I guess it was a matter of the lesser of two evils or something like that. Tan had explained that to me once, but hell. I couldn't remember every enlightened thing that Korean thought up. I didn't really want to, either. I was going to put that stupid war behind me, even if it meant forgetting some damn good people.

I closed the bathroom door behind me and wondered if the war was why I had been so miserable lately. Then I remembered Lily and my head thumped a little more. Too bad they couldn't bottle that hazy feeling you get before you remember things in the morning. It would have helped a lot of pathetically broken hearts out there. I reached into the cabinet for the bottle of Aspirin and was amazed that it was half full.

I had found out Ponyboy's little secret one night after Johnny and Dally had died. It was just the two of us home and he couldn't sleep to save his life. I didn't help things by being the insomniac in the family and the guy he shared a bed with, but that was beside the point. He should have been exhausted, but his mind was still working and he was always sleepless when that happened. So he got up and went to the bathroom. A minute later, I decided I needed a glass of water and to look out the window again to see if Darry was ever coming home. I was walking past the bathroom doorway as he put about five Aspirins in his hand. He'd looked up just as he was about to pop them back and looked me right in the eye. I didn't say a word and he lowered his hand. A minute later only three of those pills were gone and I was marching down the hall towards our bedroom. I don't think either of us bothered to say a word as we both silently dressed and pulled our shoes on. I just wrote out a note for Darry and Soda and led the way out of the house. And we ran. We were nearly in Soc territory before I finally bothered to turn us towards home. Ponyboy stayed in step with me just as he had every day we had run together in high school. When we finally made it home, Ponyboy broke our silence by offering me a glass of water. I'd accepted and we'd sat there silently. Finally I looked him in the eye and he looked more uncomfortable than he had the whole rest of the night.

"_I know how long this has been going on and I want it to stop," I'd said in even tones _

_"It's just Aspirin," he'd replied shrugging it off and I leaned in closer to where he was sitting_

_"Being an Aspirin addict is still being an addict."_

_"I only take 'em when I hurt or when I can't sleep," he defended_

_"You can't sleep much anymore, huh? Not since Mom and Dad died four months ago. That's a long time to be dependant on pills."_

He'd looked at me with a bit of a guilty and sad look and I had returned it with one that I hoped he understood. I wasn't mad or disappointed. I just wanted to make sure he was on the straight and narrow. I hadn't meant to bring Mom and Dad into this, but I couldn't undo what was done. I'd made my point and I hoped he wouldn't think of me any differently. For me to be the one to enforce it was strange enough as it was without him acting like I was a stranger...

_"If you can't get to sleep, just poke me and we'll take a run. If that doesn't leave you exhausted, then I don't know what will."_

_I was running out of things to say and he wasn't helping me out any. I didn't like sitting in this position and thanked Darry silently again. I was much happier ignoring that part of big brotherhood._

_"Hey. We've got school tomorrow. I think we should get at least a little sleep. Otherwise, I won't be able to move tomorrow, let alone watch you beat me in a foot race."_

_Ponyboy had smirked and he even raised an eyebrow at me. "We wouldn't want that. Coach might start to think I've gotten faster and that it's time to retire you to the bench for a while."_

I ruffled his hair. I hoped Coach would retire me. I was getting too used to feeling this tired and Ponyboy was getting too fast for me to keep up with for very long. One day he'd beat me and I would be the one smiling the most for him. He was my kid brother. How could I not?...

I sighed. That was a long time ago. Things had changed a lot since then. I glanced back down at the Aspirin bottle and tipped some pills into my hand. Five of them stared up at me and I shook my head this time. I was a bloody hypocrite.

After my shower, I went down the hall to my room and pulled some clothes out of the closet, careful not to wake Sodapop. He was sleeping in the middle of the bed and Ponyboy was strangely not right beside him. I looked on the floor on his side of the bed and frowned. Where did he get to? I glanced at the window and mentally smacked myself. I was really stupid some days. So I pulled on some clothes and made my way silently back through the house and to the front door. I opened it quietly and made sure it didn't bang shut behind me before I sat down beside Ponyboy on the front step. He didn't even notice I was there. It was just him and the sunrise, like it always had been. So I sat patiently and glanced at the sunrise, too. It was pretty and it was calm, but it sadly meant nothing to me here and it left me empty. I suppose it meant something to Ponyboy. He was so lost in the colors and the mist that I would have to cover his eyes to even get his attention. I understood it now. It was mine there and it was his here and that was the way it should be.

"It was pretty this morning," Ponyboy said after a while

"I suppose," I answered from where my head was resting on my arms "It doesn't seem as worthwhile if you know you'll survive the night to see it."

Ponyboy didn't answer and I kind of wish I had have kept my trap shut. I didn't know what else to say, though. That and the Aspirin had made my head dull without the pain to keep it sharp. Pain, I had learned, was good when it came to being alert. I think it was a survival mechanism on the most basic level, but it wasn't worth it some times. I wondered right then if this was one of them.

"You know, while I was over there, I used to watch the sun rise and think about you."

"Me?" he asked looking at me and I chanced a small nod

"You were on the other side of the world probably watching it set. I liked to think that that was something the pair of us were sharing even if we were a whole world apart."

Ponyboy got this look on his face that he generally put on when he was going to correct me, but he didn't bother to this time. He just stared at me as I stared across the street so I wouldn't be forced to look back. That was pretty much the first private conversation we'd had since I had left and I wondered if they would all be so awkward.

"I used to think that…" Ponyboy started blushing and trailed off

"Used to think what?" I asked

"It's dumb." He shrugged

He put his head on his arms like I had and looked off at the sunrise. I straightened up a bit and looked over at him for the first time in a while.

"Ponyboy, nothing you have ever told me was dumb."

Most of what he had told me was always so full of thought that I felt dumb because I didn't get it. But I always listened and thought on it the best I could. He knew that. It was just that everything was different now. I'd been gone and he'd grown up a bit without me here to listen to his 'dumb' thoughts. He could tell me, I'd still listen and try to understand. Soda always did and I did envy him for that sometimes. I envied him for a lot lately. He was here and I wasn't. But if he were to get drafted, I would go in his place in a heartbeat. Soda couldn't kill anyone over there but himself, and it would be a long, drawn out death. That's what happened to kindhearted people over there. The Viet Cong may have killed their bodies, but it was their own compassion killed their souls.

"Well, after Mom and Dad…well…I used to think that they were watching it, too."

He was beat red about then, whether it was from embarrassment or the emotions I couldn't tell, but he was doing his best to avoid even looking in my direction. I looked off towards the sunrise again and thought about what he said.

"Ponyboy Curtis, that is about the least dumb thing I have ever heard you say."

/-/-/-/-/-/

After I cooked Ponyboy and me some breakfast, we did a lot of sitting on the back porch. I guess we were more awkward than one would think. I hadn't been in much contact with any of my brothers since I got home and I was going to have to do something about that. I should have known by now that they were the only people in my life that I gave a damn about and that would give a damn about me, no matter what. Darry and Soda had come to the rodeo and I had seen Ponyboy afterwards and this morning, but other than that I saw them at meals and the odd moments when we were all at home. They were acting odd lately and I knew that was my fault. I hadn't been around and when I was around I was generally screaming my head off in the middle of the night. It was as if I was just visiting whenever I saw them. I was more like a guest in my own house and it killed me to feel like that. I'd fought for my life, supposedly lost it, and taken crap for the last two years only to come home to feeling like a…a stranger in my home. I should have been disgruntled, but the thought left me feeling more sad than angry. I'd come home so I could be with my brothers. I needed to get my nose out of joint and just get back to life. I was getting sick of just being bitter about her. I did not survive Nam for this shit…

"I'm gonna go shopping," Ponyboy said after a while

He was restless and I didn't blame him. Soda and Darry were sleeping and they were going to be for a few more hours at least. The store opened at eight and it was quarter past now. Why not do the shopping and just get it done? I felt the same way.

"I'll come with you," I said standing up to go

Pony looked a little surprised, but he shrugged and grabbed Darry's keys. Apparently he shopped and was driving now. Damn, I felt old. Before I left, he had depended on us to do that stuff for him. I guess even baby brothers grow up someday. The drive was quiet and the air between us was tense. I couldn't think of a damn thing to say to make that go away and I guess he was in the same boat. Either that or he didn't care. Nothing I had to say fit, though. I wanted to tell him about the jungle and the peasants, but how did I do that without mentioning the leeches and the blood and the starvation and terror those people faced…I was going to have to just close the book on everything. There was no way it wouldn't hurt my brothers if I held onto it. Life shouldn't have been so complicated.

"So, are you dating?" I asked after our third corner of just silence

"I've been on a few," Ponyboy said with a slight blush to his cheeks

"Any with that red head?"

"No. She cares a bit too much about her social status to ever give a guy like me a go."

"To hell with her, then." I shrugged

"Yeah." Ponyboy replied in a voice that didn't quite convince me he was shrugging her off

We fell into silence again and I wondered how those few exchanges had affected him. He was a pretty deep person. I wasn't. Sometimes I really wished Dallas was around to talk to. I could have said that to him and he wouldn't have blinked an eye. And Ponyboy had actually taken it to heart. I was just going to keep my trap shut from now on. And I did until we got to the market.

Ever since I had gotten home, I had avoided shopping in all forms. It was mostly the fact that I didn't want to run into the rumors. I'd heard about the veterans back from the war that just shut down. They were crazies on the streets because they had seen so much horror that they couldn't process it. That or they couldn't fit into society enough to support themselves. So they sat outside businesses trying to bum a coin from whoever was going into the place. I didn't know what I would do if I ever came across one, but I was about to find out. I almost tripped over one of them going into the store. It was one of those moments where you're absolutely sure there is no God. He was dirty, he was filthy and he was pretty much everything I was sure would have fit right in over there but didn't work here. It made a body wonder if he was next. I didn't like that feeling and I suppose I was already mad before he talked to me.

"Hey, Man, can you spare a buck for a veteran?"

"No," I answered in a calloused tone

"Man, I fought over there so guys like you could stay home with your families," he paused, glaring at me "We protected this country from Communism or some shit like that, Man, and for what? For 'Uncle Sam' to drop us like bad habits because we're crippled, Man? That isn't the America I fought for."

I stopped and knelt down so we were nearly eye-to-eye. He was dirty and I now saw he was blind in one eye. It was a white color that was eerie. He smelled terrible, like Cannabis, but I still had no pity for him.

"I fought over in Vietnam. I saw good men die, I killed Viet Cong and I pretty well lost my only chance at a family some day because of it. I fought for this country. But I refuse to sit on a curb and degrade myself further than they degraded me over there. So don't you dare tell me you did anything I didn't and don't you dare beg anything from me. Get a job, you fucking Den Rat."

Ponyboy stared at me for a long time. I guess that was about the last thing he had expected me to do, it was the last thing I had expected to do either, but it had to be done. He looked like he didn't even know me and I felt like shit. So I stalked off into the store and waited for him inside. I knew him. I knew he was delayed because he was giving that poor excuse for a man a coin before he followed me in, but I didn't say anything right then.

"We need something for supper. You pick," I directed before falling silent, as I would be for the rest of the trip.

That bum had gotten to me worse than I was willing to admit. On the course I was on, there was a chance I could end up there, sitting on the curb asking thugs like Curly for a dime. It made me mad, sad and pretty hopeless all at the same time. I didn't have time for anything else in my head, especially superficial conversation. Needless to say it wasn't the most companionable day we had ever spent together.

The bum had cowered like a dog from me on the way out and I wanted to kick him. Ponyboy must have seen the look of pure revulsion on my face and the look he gave me was heart breaking. On the way home, I had felt it was important to explain a few things to him, though.

"I know you think that I was treating that man harshly back there. You're right, I did treat him harshly, but I have more right to than anyone."

Ponyboy didn't say anything, but he glanced over at me with a doubtful look that made me more defensive than ever.

"That man had a tough ride over there and he chose to come home and act like his whole world is hell because he got hurt. Well, life's not that simple. If you give up like that, you deserve a reality check every once in a while."

"I'm fine with it, Pepsi."

Nice try, kid. You don't lie that well, especially to me.

"Ponyboy, don't you ever do drugs, d'ya hear me?" I demanded and it was chilling how much I sounded like I had the day we'd picked him and Johnny up from the church 

"Pepsi, I'm not into that stuff, you know that," he answered looking a little tiresome

"A lot of guys who ended up over there weren't. But it was too easy to find an Opium den and pretend the world didn't exist. That man on the curb was what we called a 'Den Rat'. He was one of the ones who got so hooked to the stuff that when he came over here, he started using his government money for drugs. Now he has to beg on the fucking street corner for money so he can feed himself or buy a little more Opium or Heroine or whatever else he can get his hands on. It's a sad existence and I don't ever want to catch you giving one of those assholes money again. Got it?"

"Yeah. I got it."

I sighed and glanced over a where he was actually driving the truck – I don't think I would ever get over that one – looking like he had been given a big chew of information to think on. I hadn't meant to get it across the way I had, but Goddamn it! No brother of mine was going to end up like that or contribute to the belief that it was ok. I sighed again and glanced over at Ponyboy again.

"Listen, Kid. I didn't mean to be like that. I just didn't like seeing anything the reminded me of Nam. Especially when I know if it hadn't been for Buck and Dally that one night and a couple very hard assed Lieutenants…I could have been that guy. And it scares the shit out of me."

I don't know what I expected. I knew what I wanted to hear, but Ponyboy just didn't have it in him to tell me that I was too good to be like that. He didn't have it in him to tell me I shouldn't have worried and that I was his brother, no matter what.

"You can't hide from the war forever," he finally said and I blinked

"I'm not hiding."

Ponyboy looked over at me when we came to a four way stop with a measuring look. I knew this was going to end badly before he even said anything.

"You could have fooled me."

It was an interesting moment. I knew it was Ponyboy who was saying what he was, but I could also remember myself saying the same thing to Dallas Winston once upon a time. We were talking about his dad, I think. He'd gotten mad about it and let into me. I wanted to let into Ponyboy, but I knew better. He was my brother and I was not Dallas Winston.

"You don't know anything," I growled looking out the window "Darry's right. You can't use your head."

"I may not use my head, but I know enough."

I didn't like the tone in his voice and when I looked over at him, he was doing a pretty good job trying to keep his features set. He was testing my patience and I was sure that he knew he was.

"If I thought it would do any good, I would argue with you," I stated as we turned onto our street

"That'd be a switch..." he was being sarcastic and I had had enough

We'd pulled into the driveway and I was tempted to smack him up the backside of the head, but I gripped my belt and looked him over coolly.

"You don't know Shit," I spouted out Dallas's phrase as if I had heard him use it this morning "And cut the attitude."

Ponyboy simply glared at me before getting out of the truck and going into the house. I sat in the truck for a minute and sighed.

"I don't need this shit."

The truck had nothing to say to that, so I picked up the three bags of groceries and headed into the house. Darry was standing in the front room looking like was expecting an answer to a question he didn't think he had to ask. I just shook my head. I didn't have an answer. All I knew was that I had managed to screw things up between the two of us and I didn't know how to fix them. The only part that bothered me was that I didn't care to. I was turning out to be a hell of a day.

* * *

Well, that is the end of this chapter. It went pretty fast for me. I guess that happens when you just get writing and don't think about what exactly is coming off. I think it has a little of that old DV feel to it and it's a nice switch. 

Well, I'm going to be late for school at this rate, so enjoy, have a great day and remember...

Any comments at all are welcome and flames are accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!

Tens


	9. The Aftermath

Well, here's something! I know, I've been bad. Just don't shoot the working stiff. I hate work…Blame work! Can you believe they asked me, while I was shopping for a present for my Dad, if I wanted to work from 5:30-11:00 PM? That's why I go to Walmart and Sobey's…Ever notice that Sobey's is 'Obey' with two squiggles around it? Humm…Anyways, blame Safeway! Ha, that was easy! And…umm…I babble too much...Yeah... On with the show!

Disclaimer: the usual

Dedication: To everyone who reviewed!

Oh, it's a short chapter, just so you know.

Chapter 8: The Aftermath

The whole day passed by slowly after that fight with Ponyboy. It wasn't nothing in comparison to some of the fights Darry and I had had or even a fight between Dallas and I, but it was the first and only time I had ever wanted to clock the kid. I loved him like no tomorrow and it tore me apart to even think about hitting him. I would have apologized to him, but I just didn't feel like it. I meant it when I told him he didn't know shit. How did I take back something I knew to be true? I didn't know so I retreated to the back yard and my makeshift punching bag. I was a coward and I knew it, but I didn't care. I worked myself out and only came in when Darry started yelling about dragging me in for dinner. Not that dinner was all that great. Soda had burnt the chicken and with neither Pony nor I talking the table was pretty silent. Two-Bit and Steve seemed to know to stay away that night, so the four of us were left in the uncomfortable silence of the house. Darry was irritated by it and Soda seemed to have given up being the diplomat. I decided to just sleep on the couch. Lord only knew if I would have a peaceful night or not.

As I laid on the couch watching the street light make patterns on the roof, I thought about how things had managed to change so much. It seemed like only three years ago we had buried Mom and Dad then later Dallas and Johnny. Things had settled in after that but now… Next time God or Fate or whoever decided to perform a miracle, it could bring someone else back from the dead. I wasn't going to volunteer again. Hell, I wasn't even going to be enlisted again. Fate was so much like the army it wasn't even funny. You got enlisted and had to go and fight some battle for no reason and just when you think you'll be discharged, something else is thrown at you. Yet another reason to be disgruntled. Ok, maybe they weren't the same, but both sucked.

I rolled over onto my side and thought about another theory on fate. It hadn't made much sense along the Mekong, but it made perfect sense now. Maybe I just didn't get things until they had something to do with my personal life. I guess they really hit home then. This one sure did.

_"…Would you stop that?"_

_"What?" Morrosco looked up surprised "Talking about my Juvi record?"_

_"Come off it, Curtis, you're no angel," Jackson growled, "Don't tell me you never think about all the stupid things you did as a kid."_

_"Well, think about it, don't parade it," I grumbled, avoiding the answer_

_"Curtis, what the hell do you think about as we strip and dry our gear and weapons if not past violence?" Rivers asked looking interested_

_"The weapons, mostly." I shrugged "What about you, Rivers?"_

_" I think about the one incalculable factor in combat."_

_"There are many incalculable factors in war," I reminded_

_"But this is the main one," he paused to look back at his Greener "Luck. Fate…"_

_" The odds?" I asked and he nodded_

_" Whatever it's called, I hate it."_

_"Why?" I thought that was the dumbest thing in the world to say_

_"Because I have no control over it."_

He was right. You have no control over anything in life that you can't touch with your own two hands. Fate was something to hate. It screwed life up beyond all measure, no matter if you were Grease or Soc. We all learned that one when Mom and Dad's car crashed and again when Bob Sheldon died.

I tossed on the couch again and pounded my pillow a bit. I couldn't get comfortable for the life of me. I sighed and decided a shower would help. So I lightly rolled off the couch and set my feet down only where I knew they wouldn't make noise. It was pointless. I planned to go and run the shower, which made a hell of a lot more noise, but I was enjoying the practice. You never knew when sneaking out of the house would be a good idea and rusty movements made for creaky floorboards. I guess I would have been considered to be snooping then, but I honestly didn't hear Ponyboy until I was right outside our bedroom door.

"…I know something's up."

"Nothing is bothering me, Soda. I just can't sleep. It's the same every year."

Nice try, Kid. Even Soda knows you better.

"I know you better than that," Soda sighed, "And I've never known you to be mad at Pepsi, so there has to be something going on."

Thank you Captain Obvious.

"I didn't bring up Pepsi, but while we're on the subject, I'm not mad at him," Pony sighed "I just…Soda, he's a different person."

I'm a different person? I'm not the one who grew two feet in two years…

"People change," Soda offered, "Especially after they've seen horrible things."

"But not this much. Soda, before the church he was just mad because he yelled at Mom and got in a fight with Dad before they died. After the church he was just angry because Dallas and Johnny died. Now, I don't even know him well enough to know if he's even got anything to be angry at but…" he trailed off and I knew he was thinking about that hobo soldier again.

I wanted to sigh along with Soda, but I knew better. I'd be heard as easily as if I knocked over a chair. He had a point; I'd give him that. We weren't nearly as close as we once were. I patched things up with Darry after the fire and grew a little from Ponyboy, but that ditch between us then was a chasm now. Building a bridge was going to be hell. I just couldn't help but wonder why I had ignored it until now…well, that was stupid, I knew why. I had been too wrapped up in my own misery over Lily. Ponyboy had been the last thing on my mind for the last few weeks. Maybe this was an eye opener that I had to get my self together. It was one of many.

"Pony, he doesn't have to be mad at anything," Soda whispered back "People aren't normal when they live on hate."

"It sure has been normal for him," Pony muttered back

"Only since Mom and Dad died," Soda answered back

They both fell silent and I watched Soda stroke Ponyboy's hair off his forehead. They were both turned towards the wall and I was sure that if either of them turned over they would see me clear as day. I leaned on the wall and waited for them to go on. Nothing in my mind was certain and I tried not to think. This chasm was getting bigger by the sentence…

"Soda, how come you get him when he's like this?" Pony asked fingering the blankets

"When he's like what?" Soda asked

"Like when he acts so crazy even I don't get him. Is it a twin thing?" he replied

Crazy. Was that what I was? My words from earlier came flooding back and I was still right in my belief of them. Ponyboy didn't know shit. Crazies were the guys who we all called heroes because they charged into a firefight to pull out a few guys with no thought of themselves. Well, they were thinking of themselves. Heroism was an easy out where I was stationed. When things got tough, doing something stupid that no one else would think of doing could get anyone a fast ticket home in a plywood box. If they happened to survive, well, they crossed that bridge when they came to it and the cameras and commendations stopped coming. I was no hero.

"Ponyboy, it's not a twin thing, but at the same time it is. I get him because I don't worry over trying to get him," Soda paused "And I always remember that if he wasn't the way he was, I might be."

The way I was? What did Soda think I was? I didn't get an answer, but at the same time I think it came in loud and clear.

"Soda, you're nothing like Pepsi," Ponyboy sighed, "You two could never be that much alike."

"Maybe not, but I hope I never find out."

You know, I think I should have been insulted about then or at the very least I should have felt bitter, but I just shook my head. Soda was better off not knowing. He was a pretty smart guy when he wanted to be.

"Listen, Kiddo. No matter what I say, it's you who has to fix this because we both know Pepsi is too stubborn to," Soda explained, "Things can't go back to the way they were, no matter how badly we want them to, but things don't have to be this bad between the two of you."

Pony sighed and Soda put an arm across his chest. I eased myself off the wall, thinking they were done for tonight. But Pony surprised me.

"I hope you're right, Soda. I just want to be able to look at Pepsi again and see him and not some out of place soldier."

"Like the man you saw on the curb," Soda said dryly

"How'd you know about that?" Ponyboy asked a little surprised

"You two went to the store. He always sits outside the store," Soda summed up "It doesn't take a genius to figure out how many things at the grocery store would have had that effect on Pepsi-cola."

"I just don't get it Soda."

"Stop thinking so hard about it. Just be happy Pepsi is here and things will figure themselves out. When he starts asking for change on the curb, then you can think yourself silly."

Ponyboy let out a huff that passed as amused and Soda ruffled his hair a bit with his free hand. I envied the pair of them right then. I was so far out of the picture I couldn't comprehend touching Pony let alone being so playful with him. Hell, I couldn't imagine being playful with anyone.

"Get some sleep, Pony. We both have to get up early tomorrow."

"Night, Soda. And…thanks."

"Anytime."

They both fell silent and I crept back down the hall towards the living room. So, Ponyboy, my own kid brother, thought I was as nuts as that asshole on the street. I still didn't feel bitter, but the words kept coming back to me whenever I thought about it. 'He doesn't know shit'.

Tomorrow morning we were going to have a long overdue chat.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

The next morning I woke up to Steve and Soda trying to have a muttered conversation in the kitchen. That meant they weren't quite booming, but they were working up to it. I blinked at the sunlight and finally managed to turn over. I nearly toppled off the couch in a tangle of blankets, but I managed to catch myself before I hit my head on the coffee table. I growled and kicked my legs at the blankets that had magically appeared there and finally managed to get free. I knew Darry had draped them over my legs, but damn. A person could kill himself in the morning when he didn't know he was covered up. I glanced at the coffee table; surprised I hadn't hit my head on it yet and made a mental note to move it away from the couch tonight.

"Well, I didn't expect you up." Soda smiled when I came into the kitchen

"I didn't expect to be either," I answered "I'm just a real light sleeper these days."

"Don't you mean 'these nights'?"

"Don't get mouthy, Randle. I haven't had my coffee yet," I warned and Steve glared at me

"I'm not afraid of you."

"Really?" I asked going for the coffee pot "Then things have really changed around here."

Steve looked like he wanted to say something else, but he couldn't find the right words. So I poured myself a cup of coffee and looked out the window at the back yard, bound and determined that I was going to give him nothing to make ammunition out of. Steve may have aged, but he still hadn't grown up it seemed. I wasn't saying I had, either, but I felt older than I had any right to.

"So, what are you going to do today?" Soda asked to change the subject "Since the rodeo is over, you probably won't be going to work at the stables."

"Yeah. No reason to get punished if I don't need to," I agreed "I was going to hang around here today. I want to have a talk with your brother."

The look on Soda's face said it all. I never referred to Ponyboy like that. I couldn't stomach it because the phrase was Darry's back when he and I were enemies. It brought back too many hurt feelings. I had only got that treatment when Darry was mad at me and I always ended up doing something stupid to erase the last stupid thing I had done. Dallas and I always found something to do on nights like those. Sometimes I really missed him. He would have found something for me to do to get my mind off everything and it would have been far from what I had planned. Sometimes I really wanted to make things go back to the way they were back then.

"Ponyboy went to school," Soda said evenly

"It's summer time."

"Yeah, mid-August," Soda reminded, "School started this morning."

I swallowed a curse by choking back a bit of coffee. I had completely lost track of time. It seemed like the summer would last forever – a constant, boring hell. Maybe fall would bring something around and I could hunt up some action. The thought wasn't as appealing as it once was, but damn. Anything to break this rotten cycle would do. I guess what really had me pissed off was the fact half my plans for the day were now gone. I was going to have to move everything in my head ahead of schedule…

"We've gotta get going, buddy," Steve said breaking the silence

Soda sent me a tired look before sighing and following after Steve. I heard the front door slam before Steve started talking again. I thought I heard him say my name, but I don't think that would be too out of the ordinary. He normally complained about me after we'd had a heart to heart like this. I finished the coffee in my cup and turned it upside down in the sink. The house was abnormally quiet and I wasn't used to it. I had the distinct feeling it would be like that for the next few days, if not weeks or months. It would be enough to do what Nam had tried to: drive me crazy. I hated to even think it, but it looked like for the first time in my life I was going to do something I swore I would never do.

I was going to have to find a job.

* * *

Well, I thought that was long, but the computer says otherwise. I could have gone on with this, but I think I need a few days to ruminate on it and where I want this story to go and how fast and all that jazz. So, thanks to everyone who loves this story and keeps bugging me for updates. I appreciate it. So I'll try and move things along as swiftly as possible. 

As always, any comments at all are welcome and flames are accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!

Tens


	10. The Man in the Mirror

Well, happy New Year. It's been a while, but hey. I think I may just be able to do something with this after so long. So go me. And thanks to everyone who's been reviewing. I know, a lot of you are thinking that Pepsi's character needs to pull out of his nosedive and that's what the next few chapters are all about. So I do listen to you all! This one is for you guys!

Disclaimer: Pointless

Chapter 9: Man in the Mirror

My life was pathetic. I could admit that now. I'd denied it for the last few days, but it was obvious that I would have to be living in a delusion to continue on that path. And I'd rather accept it than pretend any longer. Not that anyone would believe me if I told them any differently. And I guess that was the worst part of all this.

For a solid month I had been on the search for a job. There were jobs all over Tulsa; good paying, honest ones run by fair employers. That was the problem. What fair employer would want anything to do with an ex soldier who was also a murdering greaser with a criminal record that was more than a mile long? Of course I didn't tell them that when I came around asking for a job, but every time a guy looked hopefully at me, promising me that I could have the job and he'd get back to me, I knew it was never going to happen. They didn't want to be liable for my baggage and I hated it. I wasn't going to kill anyone. I just wanted whatever the hell was passing for minimum wage these days and to come home every night as dog tired as Darry always was. Between rumors and my file…well, I had a snowball's chance in hell of ever getting that. So I pretty much gave up looking last week when I couldn't even get a job painting houses. It was my last bit of confidence.  
I knew Darry and Soda could call in some favors and get me working with them, but I would then be their responsibility; my screw ups their screw ups, and I liked that thought even less than I liked deluding myself. So I took some vacation time on the couch until Darry finally told me I'd better at least get up, get outside and maybe bathe before I made myself sick. He made it clear that if I didn't do what he asked, he was going to physically make me and from the look in his eye I was willing to bet that even Dallas would have made a beeline off that couch and into the shower.

So here I was, out and about doing the shopping so maybe Darry would get off my back for a few days. I kept asking myself what the hell I was doing here. There wasn't another man in sight that wasn't wearing a store uniform and all the ladies kept giving me looks down their noses. I suppose I gave them too much to work with. I hadn't shaved in over a week, I was still tanned dark from the jungle, my blonde hair was long and I hadn't done anything with it before I left the house. I was wearing ripped jeans, a stained white wife beater and an old plaid shirt hanging open over that. I knew I looked like hell. They knew I looked like hell. You'd think they'd move on from that fact. I sighed and picked up a pack of chicken from the freezer, shivering from the icy touch, before unceremoniously throwing it in the cart and moving down the line of doors filled with meat. It was funny to think that this is what we were fighting for over in Nam. The right to go and buy frozen meat, fresh fruit and canned goods. It wasn't like some third world country like Nam was going to come and threaten that way of life, but the government didn't seem to think that way. It all seemed dumb to me, but at the same time I was glad to be out of it.

'_At least being a soldier was man's work…'_

I really wanted to flip off the voice in my head, but the old lady ahead of me would probably take it the wrong way and I was definitely not in the mood to deal with anything like that today. So I muttered a curse under my breath and steered towards where the veggies were. Darry didn't cook enough green food for my liking. That was just one of the many things Darry didn't do right. Darry didn't keep the house hot enough for my liking, Darry didn't leave anything I dropped where I dropped it, Darry didn't let me do whatever the hell I wanted all day…Darry was getting on my nerves. Even when we were fighting after Mom and Dad died, Darry had never managed to annoy me this much. I blamed it on the rest of the universe. I figured it was just another reminder that life wasn't going my way. I sighed as I put a bag of carrots into the cart along with the sack of potatoes I knew my brothers would eat in a week. That would feed a town of peasants for a good two weeks. That's if they lived that long to actually enjoy them or if a unit came through demanding to be fed and waited on. If they weren't brutalized and bloodied until they gave in to stronger people. I doubt they knew what a bloody potato even was….

"Stop thinking," I ordered myself

"Pepsi-cola? Pepsi-cola Curtis, is that you?"

I froze. Someone actually called me Pepsi-cola in a public place without the whole 'I'm not Soda and I'm not dead' talk. It had been a month, but you wouldn't believe how many people still did it. Looking up over the cart I saw the smiling face of Mrs. Mathews and instantly relaxed. Of course Mrs. Mathews would know all about me by now. If Two-Bit hadn't got around to telling her his sister Katie would have run into Ponyboy and found out at some point since school started back up. I smiled back at her, hesitantly as she made her way over. Mrs. Mathews was the closest thing I had had to a mother since the crash. She'd practically fed us for the first two weeks after we lost Mom and Dad and she checked in on us for a long time after that. I imagine she would have come to see me off if I had have had that option when I got shipped out. She would have told me to take care of myself and kissed me on the cheek and everything embarrassing only mothers could do. In short, she was a good person and I was happy to see her.

"Hi Mrs. M," I offered, straightening up

"Oh, so you do remember me." She smirked and I sighed

"Yeah, I had planned on coming to visit, but with everything…"

"Stop with the excuses and let me get a look at you," she ordered, looking me over from head to toe

"I know, I look like hell," I replied, rubbing the back of my neck just so my hand would have something to do

"I've seen some of the other boys who came back from that war," she said waving my appearance and the war off in the same gesture "And most of them look a slight worse off than you do."

I nodded, remembering the bum outside this grocery store who had scurried away from the door when he had seen me coming. Yeah, I was one of the lucky ones all right.

"Hasn't that brother of yours been feeding you?" she asked, abandoning her cart so she could tug on my, well, Soda's pants to see how loose they were around my hips

"Everything he can shove down my throat and then some," I answered, feeling my face getting red as I let her look me over

"And honey, when was the last time you cleaned up?" she asked, licking the end of her thumb so she could scrub at something on my cheek "You really need to take better care of yourself. You come on by the house and I'll get you fed up and your hair all trimmed, too."

"Yes Ma'am," I answered, knowing she would hunt me down if I didn't

"It's just too good to see you. After you went missing and that letter came," she tutted something in her thoughts and I waited patiently for her to go on "Well, it's just good to see you."

"You too, Mrs. M," I replied and she laid a hand on my cheek in such a motherly gesture that I leaned right into it

Right then I wanted to kick Two-Bit's ass. He had this wonderful woman of a mother at home and he couldn't be bothered to go and see her unless he was down on his luck or too drunk to remember where we lived. I would kill to have my mother being the one fussing over me, nagging me about the way I looked, and telling me I needed a haircut. I missed her something awful right then.

"Listen Hunny, if you need anything or if there's anything I can help you out with, you come and see me," she ordered and I nodded

"I'll do that;" I assured her, "I'll say hi to Two-Bit for you."

She laughed, smile lighting up her face. She knew just as well as I did that he practically lived at our place. She nodded and went back to her cart, still looking me over like a mother hen would. I waved a little and looked around the grocery store, feeling more lost than ever.

"Oh, and Pepsi? When you get sick of settin' around like a bump on a log, come by the bar and we'll put you to work."

I blinked, turning in time to see Mrs. Mathews turn around the corner into the next isle, heels clicking on the linoleum. I blinked again, wondering if I had really heard her right.

To think all I had to do was mosey into a bar and I'd have had a perfectly acceptable, illegal job weeks ago.

"I'll be damned," I muttered to myself

/-/-/-/-/-

When I got home that afternoon no one was around. That was just fine for me. I didn't really want anyone around. My head was still going through the conversation I had had at the grocery store. A job offered up to me on a plate. Man, it was too good to be true. I almost considered not showing up for it, ever. What can I say, when things are looking too good to be true they generally are.

I sighed, leaning a little deeper into the couch, and glanced around the quiet room. Ponyboy was probably at school, Soda was probably just getting off work and Darry would be home in a few hours. It looked like it was just me, myself and I. I hated that combination, so I went and flicked on the TV leaving the volume off. I watched Perry Mason traipse around the courtroom and thought to myself, as I always do when Perry is on, that he doesn't know shit about being a real lawyer. I don't know why, but it always seemed more interesting this way. I could make up whatever story I wanted, put the right words in that idiot's mouth, and it never seemed to get boring. On rough days like these, it was something.

"Hey, Peps. How'd the job hunt go?" Soda asked coming in the door and kicking his shoes against the wall an hour later maybe.

"Two-Bit probably had a more productive day," I lied, still not committed to taking the job or even thinking about taking it, so why worry Sodapop? "How was work?"

Soda blinked at me before coming to sit down on the couch beside me.

"Why do you want to know how work was?" he asked

"What, I have to have a reason?"

"Yeah, it's you. You've never ask me how work was."

"Because it usually bores the hell out of me," I replied and Soda smiled slightly "Tell me anyways."

"Well, it probably will bore the hell out of you. There hasn't been a wreck or accident directed to the garage in over a week, so Steve and I have been doing nothing besides minding the till and filling gas tanks."

"You're right. That did bore the hell out of me."

"Well, maybe next week we'll have an interesting job."

I shook my head, doubting it as Soda grinned. He sighed and looked over at the TV. I shrugged and he grinned at me again, probably thinking it was nice that I was still the same old Pepsi-cola when it came to some things. Why was normal so hard an act when you lost it?

"So, I was thinking tonight we should get out, do something," Soda suggested, "We'll go over to Two-Bit's. I'm sure Mrs. Mathews would love to see you. She was asking about you at the garage today…"

"You can cut the crap, Soda. I saw her today," I told him, thinking that she made a lot more sense now than she had then. Sodapop had obviously told her all about my problems. No wonder she knew I was me.

"Did she talk to you about the job?" he asked, his right foot fidgeting as he concentrated on the TV

"Yeah."

"And?"

"And I'm thinking about it," I told him

"What's to think about?"

"Sodapop," I sighed, "Thanks for setting me up with Mrs. M and thanks for the prodding, but it's illegal for me to work there. The last thing I need is a cop on my ass."

"No, Mrs. M and I talked about it. You're an adult. That coupled with her supervision and Darry's permission puts you in the clear. You just can't drink a drop."

I wondered who had thought that up for him. Sodapop was not the thinking kind. He had too much going on to be thinking and this was something that needed a lot of thinking to work.

"It's something, Pepsi. It's the first something since Rodeo season passed. I'm pretty sure this is it or you're gonna end up roofing with Darry or pumping gas with me. Can you at least try it?"

I looked him over for a minute and sighed. He knew me too well. He knew I didn't want to jeopardize this family and the stability he and Darry had worked so hard to carve out. He also knew I would never be happy working under their shadows – or Steve's. What the hell. I had nothing else to lose.

"I'll try, Soda. I'll try," I finally huffed out and his smile was gentle

"And that's all anyone's asking. Now, about your hair…"

"Damn, does everyone have to put in their two cents about my hair?" I asked, scowling at him to keep from smirking

"When it looks like you're a hobo…" Ponyboy drawled from the door

"Look who's calling who a hobo, kid," I replied.

He looked at the grass stains on his ripped jeans and the cigarette burn on the front of his shirt. He looked like a hobo, all right. I was sure this was going to start another fight. The last month had been strewn with them. But instead he just shrugged and headed down the hall for his room. I blinked myself and Soda smiled a little. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

"Where are you going?" Soda asked as I got up myself

"Well, if I have a job to get to, I might as well shave and wash my hair before I let Darry chop it off."

"Yeah, I was starting to wonder if you were going to grow breasts to match that mop."

I gaped at Soda. Man, I was the smart mouth in the family. I threw him a glare and he shrugged in his good-natured Soda way. Resisting the urge to flip him off – or worse, laugh at him – I continued to the bathroom and figured every new start should take place on a clean foot…or something. Give me a break, Ponyboy was the creative one.

It wasn't until later that night that I decided I wasn't the brave one – ballsy, yes; brave, no. I'd had the nerve to own a fake ID when I was 16 that told the whole world I was 21 and anyone to tell me otherwise was going to start a fight. Still, I had only ever had the guts to drink at Buck's or Tim's where no one even cared how old I was. Here it was going on display for the whole world. It made me nervous and when I was nervous I fidgeted.

"Stop that," Darry ordered "Or you'll end up short a piece of your ear."

"I bet you say that to all the girls," I replied wittily and Darry put a heavy hand on my head to steady me

"Only Soda," he answered

Sodapop looked up from where he was flipping through a magazine with horses all over it and smirked. Yeah, laugh it up. If there was any justice in the world, he was next. I tried to relax under Darry's hand, but I couldn't sit still for the life of me and he just had to cut up my hair right then. I knew he wanted me to look good, but damn, I just didn't feel like me with it all gone. It was like being in some monkey suit at a Soc supper and hoping they didn't notice you or something like that where you had to dress up and be someone else for the night. Only a haircut was a lot more permanent than just a night.

"I don't see why you're chopping off my mop right now; I haven't got the job yet," I pointed out

"This is just an excuse. Your hair's been bugging me since you got home."

I sighed and resigned myself to his ministrations. He had a steady hand at least and by the time he was done I had managed to settle down some. Darry combed what was left of my hair back and swept around my feet real quick before finally letting me up. I wandered over to the mirror above the kitchen sink and took a step back. Staring back at me was the same Pepsi-cola look I'd sported since I was 12. Mom had always cut my hair that way – parted on the right instead of the left so Soda and I weren't exactly the same. It made me look younger and more civilized. It reminded me of better days. I ran a hand through it, moving a few strands into place and thought a low whistle would have been appropriate. In half an hour Darry had erased three years' worth of growth.

Too bad he couldn't have gotten rid of three years' worth of memories, too.

/-/-/-/-/-/

Well, that's the end of that chapter. I hope everyone enjoyed, the next one is better. And once I get the next two of these chapters up I can post my new story, so there's some extra incentive. Hope everyone got drunk for me last night and that you all enjoyed.

See ya in the funny papers!!!

Tens


	11. The First Night

I have gotten busy and written an update I like. I know, I actually like this one! Hopefully everyone else will, too.

Disclaimer: The usual

On with the show!

Chapter 10: The First Night

I hated this already. What the hell was I doing here? I didn't belong here. I belonged in a zoo with the rest of the wild animals that society caged up for entertainment, but something told me no one wanted to see that. No, that was what they wanted here. They wanted that tough look so the patrons would reconsider making trouble in the bar. But that didn't fit on the tax forms. So they'd call me a bar tender and call it even. I'd be making a dollar and fifty cents an hour plus tips. It beat minimum wage. Well, at least I hoped it did. Last time I checked it had been a dollar and ten cents an hour. That was before I went off to war. I didn't like the thought of getting gypped at all, but I had the feeling I would be anything but gypped in this place; not with Mrs. Mathews babysitting me. Still, I didn't want to be there. I didn't want to be closed in. Hell, no matter how hard I looked for a job, I didn't even want one. Darry said I was just being stubborn, but I knew him. He over exaggerated everything. I was just pouting because I finally got my way only to find that it wasn't what I wanted at all. Ponyboy said I just needed something to bitch about these days or I wasn't happy. I was hard put not to start another fight with him. Instead I'd walked out the door and down to the bar, like Mrs. M had invited.

I looked over the dimly lit bar and sighed. It wasn't where I wanted to be when I said I envisioned myself in at a job. I was thinking something outside, working landscaping or something mindless so I could wear myself down enough to sleep and keep myself in shape. I could see my future now. I was going to be an alcoholic by the time I was done with this job…

"Pepsi, Honey. Come on in and close the door behind you," Mrs. M urged from where she had appeared behind the door

I closed it with reluctance, sure that I had just closed off any means of escape. At the same time it was like I had admitted defeat. I was going to do this and I was going to do it well, but there was every doubt in my mind that said this was going to be worse than Nam. Mrs. M was beaming at me like I had accomplished something really tough and she was proud of me. That was the only reason I didn't glare at her for forcing me into this corner. I know, I had come willingly, but I had learned a long time ago that it was always easier to blame someone else for my problems.

'Come on, you idiot,' I mentally chided myself 'The lady gets you a job and all you can do is stand here and act like a two year old about to tantrum.'

To be fair, I had a point. But I was so tempted to flip off the voice in my head for that toddler comment that I nearly physically raised my arm to do so. He was right, though. How ironic was it that the voice in my head was my own instead of someone I would actually listen to, like Dad or Dallas. Life was one ironic joke these days.

"Alright, Pepsi dear. This is the bar," Mrs. M pointed out as she ran her hand along the polished wood

I was about to make a rude comment on how I would have never guessed, but told myself off before I could do that and tried to pay attention to what Mrs. M was telling me. There was a good bit to remember. There were separate keys for the front and back doors and I was getting my own set since I would be locking up more often then not. There were stores of beer in the back room and there was an office back there incase you needed a place to crash and finally she showed me the drink list. It was old and dusty and looked like no one had ever touched it beyond setting it down there. You could barely read it and the words I thought I could make out made little to no sense. I hoped to hell I would never have to mix a drink for anyone who would know what it was supposed to taste like.

"Don't worry, Hunney. The usuals only ever ask for beer because it's cheapest and the out of towners are pretty well the same unless it's been a whiskey day. That's always easy enough to handle. And as far as I know, no one has ever needed to use that drink list."

I nodded, relieved at the news. As long as all I had to do was pour beer and the odd hard rotgut I was sure I could do this job. How hard could it possibly be?

"This the kid?" a gruff voice asked

Maybe not that easy, I admitted as I turned and saw the scowling old man coming through the back. He was probably O'Toole's age, but that didn't make him any less old in my mind. Greying hair, Buck's physique – must be a bar thing – but this guy was intimidating. Mrs. Mathews smiled at him and I had the feeling she was a Lion tamer in some other life.

"This is him alright. Pepsi-cola, this is John Redding. Everyone just calls him Red, though," she added and Red glared at me over her head

I had the distinct feeling I wouldn't be allowed to call him Red.

"Doesn't look like a murderer," he observed

But he was going to call him Red, especially if it pissed him off.

"I told you he wasn't. That was all a big misunderstanding and that war…" Mrs. Mathews was tutting the war, again.

"Too bad. Would have taken a murderer over this kicked puppy," Red said flatly "Can you at least act intimidating?"

I stiffened and tried to look as tough and menacing as I could. I'd scared enough people in my life to know what worked and I knew the tilt to my chin made my eyes shadowed and the narrowing of my eyebrows helped. The set jaw just finished the perfect picture and Mrs. M smiled.

"There. Puppy be gone," she quipped and Red nodded reluctantly

"Welcome to the Silver Slipper, Pup," he growled, but held his hand out and I took it

"Glad to be here," I replied, not really meaning it, especially if this guy was going to call me 'Pup'.

"Come on over here so I can explain tabs to you. You write every drink you serve down and you write down who it was for. Most bartenders keep that in their heads, but I want hard copies. Got that?" he asked and I nodded "Good. And no smiling."

I looked at him a little perplexed then. He delegated who got to smile? Hell, I wouldn't be smiling anyways, so what was the point of remembering not to?

"We open in an hour. Have something to eat, mop the floor, and then open up at five sharp."

He turned back to where he had come from but paused when he got to the door.

"I'll be watching you, Pup."

I glared at him and Mrs. M. put a hand on my arm in a soothing manner.

"Don't worry about Red. You just pay attention to what you're supposed to be doing tonight and everything will turn out fine."

"I don't know if I can do this, Mrs. M.," I told her honestly

"Sure you can. The first day is always the hardest, honey." She smiled at me "Now, you run across the street to the diner and get something to eat. Believe me; you'll need it by closing time."

I nodded. Closing time would be sometime around 1 or 2 in the morning and eating before then would be a smart plan. Darry had packed me a sandwich and an apple I would save for later. So I followed Mrs. M's advice and crossed the street to the Early Bird Diner and sat down along the counter. The plump waitress came over and gave me a pity look. I was getting pretty sick of those looks and wondered what the hell I ever did to deserve them from older women like this lady and Mrs. M? Maybe they could all sense if you had a mother and felt sorry for you if you didn't? Who knows, maybe she'd seen me across the street and knew I'd hit rock bottom? It didn't matter much. I'd gotten the look, regardless of the reasoning behind it.

"What'll you have?" she asked

"Burger and a coffee," I answered

"There's free pie," she offered and I shook my head before she walked away

I sat there for a few minutes before the burger and the coffee were set down in front of me. I nodded my thanks and picked at it. I wasn't hungry, but I knew I had to eat something.

I could feel my attention wandering from the food to the people and didn't bother to stop it. There were a fair amount of people in there just eating dinner. I hadn't been in a diner since the day I had gone to see Lily and nearly killed her fiancé. I guess that's why I felt so out of place there. Or maybe it was just the way that everyone seemed to be talking and enjoying themselves while I was sitting at the end of the counter on my own looking like some 'kicked puppy'.

"Hey Lois!"

I was startled out of my reverie and glanced towards where the waitress was coming back over to where I was sitting. She was smiling this time, though, and definitely not at me.

"The usual, Dot?" the waitress asked and smiled again before wandering away

I glanced at the girl beside me that she had been talking to and was a little surprised. She couldn't have been older than Darry and she was wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt. I'd never seen a girl dressed like that outside the stables. She didn't hit me as a horse person – not enough muscle on her legs. Yes, before you can ask, I was looking and it was obvious to everyone.

"See something you like?" she asked with a smile on her face that assured me she was used to it, but I'd better get my eyes back in my head

"Just wanted to know if you rode horses," I answered back, feeling a little sheepish but bound and determined not to show it

"Why would you want to know that?" she asked, curious of all things

"Knew a girl who did once." I shrugged

"You're original. Most guys just compliment my legs with a sleazy pick up line." She shook her head "I'm Dottie."

"Pepsi," I offered back, taking her outstretched hand and noticed she had blue eyes and brown hair

"Do you ride horses?" she asked, bending off the stool so she could get a look at my legs

"Only during rodeo season," I answered with a smirk

"Well, that's something, isn't it?" She replied as a turkey sandwich and a coke were set down in front of her "Thanks, Lois."

"The usual?" I asked and she nodded

"Turkey, cheese, lettuce and mayo on brown with a pickle and a coke." She nodded taking a bite "I'll live a lot longer than you if you make that your usual."

"It's not so bad," I offered, taking a bite of it "Well, maybe it is."

She laughed then and I was smiling myself. I had to try and offend girls more often. I had never just had a nice conversation like this off the bat with a chick. We sat and talked through the whole meal until she looked up at the clock and looked like she was going to let a cuss escape her lips. It really wouldn't have surprised me; she wasn't your typical middle class chick.

"I have to get to work. Maybe I'll see you around?" she asked and I nodded

"If you're coming back, I'll eat in here every day."

She laughed again and left a bill on the table before running out the door. I shrugged and looked over at the pie under the glass cover. Lois removed it and slipped a piece out. She sat it down in front of me a minute later and I grinned at her.

"You enjoy that, honey," she advised and I nodded. She didn't have to tell a Curtis twice

By the time I was done the pie I figured I should head back to the bar. No one really told me when I had to be back, just as long as we opened by five. So I assumed now was as good a time as any. I walked in and Mrs. Mathews looked up from the bar and smiled at me. Right then I noticed someone coming out of the back room and locked eyes with Dottie.

"No fucking way."

I think we said it at the same time and Mrs. M looked between the two of us in confusion. Dottie set down the black apron she'd been carrying and smirked a little.

"I guess I'll be seeing you around after all."

"You never said you worked here," I reminded

"Neither did you," she countered and Mrs. M looked a little less confused

"I take it you two have met," she stated

"Yeah. In the diner not half an hour ago," I told her

"He was checking out my legs and I just had to talk to him," Dottie informed Mrs. M with a sly smile

"What's a guy to do?" I shrugged like it was nothing when Mrs. M gave me that look that said I really shouldn't have done that to Dottie or any other girl

"The Pup back yet?" Red called from the back room

Dottie smirked at me and I think I blushed ten different shades of red – no pun intended. And right then I knew I was going to enjoy working with Dottie, but I was going to hate every damn minute I worked with Red.

"Just walked in," Dottie called back

"Good. Let him unlock the front doors."

Mrs. M smiled and nodded me towards the front. I remembered what she'd said about this. All there was to it was opening the outer wooden doors so people could walk in through the ones with the glass panes in them. I had the feeling it wasn't real glass, but that was smarter in a bar. I did that and flipped the lights on the sign on to advertise we were open and looked back over at Mrs. M as she smiled at me.

"You're going to do so well here, honey. Now, go on and stand behind the bar."

I went and did as she asked and glanced over at where Dottie was smirking at me still. Who would have guessed she was a barmaid?

"Guess this means I'm your maid," she said with that sly smile

"Guess so," I agreed "Think you can handle it?"

"I've been here longer than you have, 'Pup'."

She turned away from the bar and did up her apron before sticking a pen behind her ear and flipping the pad of paper open and putting it in one of the pockets.

And with that my first customer ever walked in and I felt myself grin as Two-Bit flashed me a smile.

"Well, look at the working man," he commented, leaning on the bar

"Yeah, and look at the bum." I nodded right back at him "Beer?"

"Beer," he agreed

So I poured my first beer and handed it to my friend. So far so good.

"You gonna pay your tab tonight, Two-Bit?" Dottie asked coming over and whacking him on the arm with her notepad

"Baby, how many times do I have to tell you that my mother's worked here longer than you've been out of high school?" Two-Bit threw back

"Every time," she replied "And don't go calling me Baby."

"You know, with some shorts on, she could definitely succeed in stopping my heart. Hell, maybe she'd even restart it for me."

"I heard that, Mathews," she warned from across the room and Two-Bit turned right back to his beer.

"You be nice or I'll tell Rachel," I threatened

"You need to learn how to play fair." Two-Bit grinned and I shook my head

"Shirley? Where's the blood?" Dottie hollered and I felt my eyebrows raise under my hairline while Two-Bit grinned even more widely

"Good luck, Pepsi-cola." He saluted and I nodded

I would need it. The night turned out to be a total disaster. I'd mixed up my own system of writing things down, I'd missed the cue for last call and happy hour had me on my toes as the whole place filled to the brim with people looking to have a good time or to drink themselves into oblivion. Through it all Mrs. M and Dottie moved like pros and kept the place moving while I stumbled along. I had never felt any more useless than I did standing there and not having a clue how people could survive at this job. I was pretty good at spotting the kids, though. They all looked like Ponyboy – too young to be acting so damn old, but bound and determined to all the same. I kicked out three. Dottie had made a big deal out of the first one. She'd whistled and cheered and announced to the whole place that I'd thrown out my first kid. Everyone cheered and I was sure I was biting a hole through my lip to keep from smiling back at her. She declared I was a genuine bartender now. And that kept me going until the end of the night when I had to help the last of the drunks out of the bar and lock the doors behind them.

All three of us collapsed into chairs at one of the cleaner tables and shared slight grins at a job well done.

"I think you just might make it," Dottie declared as she leaned over and punched me in the arm

"It was his first night," Mrs. M chided her "You did wonderful, honey."

I wanted to point out all the spilled beer and how the foam had gotten away from me and how I only stopped one of the glass mugs from breaking by letting it land on my foot. It was nothing like I thought it would be. But at least nothing caught on fire.

"Tomorrow's another night," I offered

"Not quitting?" Dottie teased

"Can't get much worse, can it?" I asked and they shrugged, not really denying it or confirming it "As long as I keep thinking that I can keep doing this."

And hopefully I would get the hang of this gig soon enough to really believe I could do this job and do it well. I glanced over at Dottie and Mrs. M and knew it was going to turn out to be one of the better choices I had made in a long time.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

(And, just because I love you all, this is the little conversation that followed Pepsi's first night.)

The bar was quiet, but it usually was at three in the morning. Red counted up the kid's tabs for the night and Shirley moved around the bar getting the last of the chairs up on the tables so the floors could get a good mop before the next night.

"He did pretty good; didn't he, John?"

Red grumbled something in response and Shirley set the last chair on the table before wandering over to the bar.

"No fights, three kids tossed out, and he never smiled, not once. C'mon, he did good, admit it," Shirley coaxed

"He's the last stray I'm taking in, Shirley," he told her seriously

"I know" she said with a smile "Two strays in three months. You should be proud."

Red let out a huff of air and went back to the totals. He'd had misgivings about taking in Dottie, too, but the Kitten had proved she was more of an asset than a liability and he'd stopped calling her Kit and all other variations of a stray cat. The Pup was a long way from being there.

"With The Pup out front, I'm going to be bored off my ass," he grumbled

"I doubt that. How many poker games did you line up tonight?" she asked with a raised eyebrow and he shrugged "Exactly. Now you can enjoy the bar a little. You still get to do up the totals and make sure Pepsi earns his keep."

"And when the Pup gets good enough to do that on his own?" he asked "When he's placing the orders and keeping the totals and knows the combination to the safe and is thumbing out the cash?"

"Well, then that leaves us a lot more time on our hands. Oh, whatever will we do?" Shirley asked with a mock-puzzled look

Red went around the bar and put a hand on each of her shoulders.

"I think we can think of a lot of things," he answered

"Good. Didn't want to think my sweetie was getting dull on me," she replied with a kiss to his lips

"No, wouldn't want that."

"Come on, Shug. I'll cook you up some breakfast," she urged with a hand in his back pocket

"Thought you had to go to bed before breakfast?" he asked

"And I suppose you want to have your cake and eat it, too?" she asked and he nodded "Well, we'll have to figure something out then."

"It's times like these I'm glad I live above the bar," he pointed out

"Me too."

* * *

Ironically, I am going to end this and go to bed at the same time as Red and Shirley.

Any comments are welcome and flames are accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!!!

Tens


	12. The Meeting

Yes, another update. I find I write some strange stuff when I am overly tired, so if this makes no sense, let me know.

Dedication: To Laughing. Thanks for the inspiration :)

On with the show…

Chapter 11: The Meeting

That night, well more like morning, I slept like I hadn't slept in months. I don't know if it was just because I hadn't worked that hard in months or if someone was passing me sleeping pills or what, but I actually woke up refreshed. The house was empty, like it always was, so there was no one around to share my good news with. I figured that with any luck I would manage to keep the good mood I woke up in all day long. That would be something. I hadn't been able to do that since back before Mom and Dad…no, I wasn't going to think on that. It just led down a road of guilt I wasn't going to touch with a twenty foot pole.

So instead of thinking, I decided to go by instinct. I smelled like the bar, so it looked like the first thing I was going to do today was wash the cigarette smoke and beer smell out of my skin and hair. The water was blissfully hot and I would have used up every last drop of it if my stomach hadn't started growling. I was ravenous by the time I got to the kitchen and helped myself to a piece of cake while the eggs were cooking. I didn't know who'd cooked this one. It wasn't Soda's sweet concoction and Darry's icing pattern was absent. It wasn't until I was settled down at the kitchen table with a plate of eggs and salsa that I decided Ponyboy made better chocolate cake than either one of them. Since when did the kid cook the cake? I shook my head and just ate it anyways. Ponyboy was another subject I was not going to let myself get into today.

No, today I was going to relax and revel in my good mood until it was time to get ready for work. And to start the ball rolling, I was going to give Darry a reason to go grocery shopping by eating a more than generous helping of salsa on my eggs and toast. That should make him happy at least. He's been on my case for weeks now about not eating my share. I frowned and randomly pulled up the hem of my shirt so I could get a good look at my ribs. They weren't any more pronounced than they had been when I got back. Darry was just being Darry. He needed to get married and have kids so he could have some other people to bitch and moan and fret over. I smirked to myself as I imagined Darry with kids. Oh, he'd probably think they were a piece of cake after the three of us. Speaking of cake...

The phone rang and I shook my head. It rang again and I stared at it for a moment before going over to it and picking it up. The phone was not something I had missed in Nam, even if it would have made life there a hell of a lot easier.

"Hello?" the voice on the other end asked and I knew my day was about to get worse

"Hi," I replied slowly

Hell, could you blame me? I hadn't been the one to answer the phone once since I got home. How did people talk on the phone with nothing important to say? At least over there the radios were used for positions and wounded. Like I said, I had no experience being on one of these things without someone screaming orders at me.

"This is Principle Harding calling for Darrel Curtis Junior."

"He's working," I answered shortly "You'll have to call back later."

"Well, I'm afraid later is not going to do. I'm calling in regards to Ponyboy's behavior today…"

And so long good mood…

"What about it?"

"Someone is going to have to come in for a conference and take him home."

"Well, Darry can't make it until after five. I'll send Sodapop along."

And before he could say anything else I hung up the phone and dialed the number on the wall Soda always did when he was in trouble for not calling in. It was answered immediately by Sodapop himself and I figured at least one thing was going my way.

"Soda, it's Pepsi," I started off bluntly "You need to go and get Pony."

"What's wrong with Pony?" he asked sounding worried

"Did something stupid, probably," I answered "The dude didn't tell me much. Just that his behavior had to be talked about and he would have to be brought home."

"Pepsi," he sighed "Steve and I have a five PM deadline on a car we're close to finishing. I can't go and get him."

"Then who's supposed to go get him?" I asked

"You."

I blinked and shook my head.

"No, I have to go to work in a few hours," I told him

"Exactly. Put the T-Bird to good use and go get him. You'll be home in plenty of time."

"But…"

"Pepsi," Soda sighed and I sighed back

"He wouldn't want me to," I told him, leaning against the wall "He hates me."

"That's something the pair of you need to sit down and work out," Soda said in that soothing tone he used when he talked about feelings "But for right now, you need to go get him."

"Fine."

It was a whispered defeat into the phone just before I set it back on its cradle. I didn't want cake anymore and the food I had eaten was sitting in my stomach like a rock. Now I had to go and talk to the Principal and figure out what the hell I was going to say to Pony in the process. So I would definitely have to get dressed then. And after that I would have to try and remember where I had put the keys last night before I had collapsed into bed.

It was nearly fifteen minutes later when I pulled the T-Bird up behind Tim Shepard's souped up Charger. Great. I let an arm rest on the T-Bird's steering wheel while I pondered what the hell Curly could have pulled Ponyboy into this time. And yeah, this time meant this time, as in that kid had always been one shitty influence on Ponyboy. The kid had brains enough to know better. He knew Curly better than most and anything that idiot came up with got them into a shit load of trouble. It drove Darry nuts trying to figure out a reason for him going along with it every time. I got it, though.

After Dallas' little standoff I made peace with Darry and school and did my best just to get by, but when I got tired and angry or just plain board Tim Shepard was the one I went to. Trouble was attached to the Shepard name and I was never disappointed. Whatever Tim managed to mix me up in usually scratched an itch or filled the hole I tried to forget was there most of the time. Ponyboy wasn't fulfilling some self destructive fantasy or anything, but he was with someone who made the hole a little shallower and got him in enough trouble to make him forget his other problems for a little while at least. Once in a while everyone needed that.

I sighed and got out of the car. Understanding it in my own mind was nothing like trying to explain it to anyone else, though. It was times like these that I would rather be back in that damn jungle.

"Curtis," I told the woman at the front desk and she nodded at me before waving me to a seat in the next room. Curly and Ponyboy were seated there, neither noticing I had entered the room. I didn't see Tim until the secretary nodded me into the room off that room. I wanted to roll my eyes. This was a school; not a police station. They needed to stop taking themselves so seriously and just send us all into one room with no fuss. But up until my fifteenth birthday, it had been more serious than the cooler to me. O'Toole would sort me out and send me home with little fuss and muss. Here they wouldn't let you live it down because you were here every day. Kids could be cruel, too. But trouble makers usually had a good run.

"Curtis."

I looked up and met Tim's cool smirk. I plastered a small one of my own on and walked over to take a seat beside him.

"Shepard."

We sat in silence for a few minutes, looking around the office like we had when we were brought in here to face the music back in the day. Everything was nice, everything was in place and the Principal's chair was just a bit higher up than ours for the effect it would give. But this time we were on the parent end of the spectrum and it sucked.

"'This remind you any of the reformatory, Curtis?" Shepard asked and I was shook back to the present, again

"Never made it there, Shepard, but it does remind me of the facility in Oklahoma City."

"Forgot you skipped a grade. How was the big house? Nicer than here?" he asked getting up so he could look at one of the diplomas with feigned interest

He was just practicing for when Principal…Whatever-his-name-was walked in. I didn't blame him. I had no idea what the hell I would say. Maybe I just wouldn't say anything at all. What did two trouble makers have to say to an authority figure? Well, flipping him off with a heart felt 'go to hell' wasn't going to do any good.

"Nah, not really," I answered and he nodded

There's no place like home, after all.

Finally the door opened and the Principal came in. He sat down in his higher backed chair and Shepard sat back down, too. He looked the pair of us over and I wondered what the hell he was waiting on; Hell had already frozen over.

"Timothy Shepard and Sodapop –"

"Pepsi," I corrected

"And Pepsi-cola Curtis. I never thought I would see the day when they pair of you ended up in my office without an irate teacher or six yelling after you."

Tim shrugged and I just waited. If he called us down here just to play with our heads I was going to start breaking things until O'Toole came to take me out of here. But that would mean I wouldn't get to work. If I couldn't get to work, then I was going to have to kiss that job goodbye. And then there was the question of who was going to take Ponyboy home. I guess I was just going to have to restrain myself to watching Tim destroy the place. Ten bucks said the diplomas went first.

"Time changes things," I offered with a shrug

"So does Nam. Now, get the hell on with it," Shepard told him flat out

"Ponyboy and Charles –"

"Curly," Shepard corrected

"Yes, Curly." He looked stern "This is not the first time I have had to call home about him. Usually your mother comes in. But we haven't had a problem with Ponyboy for years. Exemplary grades and attendance since he was fourteen."

"We know all this," Shepard pointed out "Let's get them in here and get on with it."

"Patience is a virtue." Shepard looked about ready to get that thrashing spree going "I want to make it very clear to the pair of you that you are role models for these boys and your example has obviously been lacking. They will be more diligent about staying out of trouble if you set that example. Keep that in mind."

"What did they do?" I asked calmly

"Let's let the boys come in for this part."

The boys should have been in here for the whole thing. It would have done them good to see what idiots their authority figures were. Tim and I stood while the secretary ushered the boys in. They took our seats while we stood behind them. Curly had greeted his brother with a smirk. He was confident in Tim. Me, well, I didn't even get a glare. What did that say about me?

"Would either of you like to tell your brothers what went on this morning?" the Principal asked and neither made a sound. "Alright. They were fighting on school property which resulted in damages."

"Wait, with each other?" Tim asked and glared at the pair of them "I thought you morons got along."

"No, there were other boys in the altercation who have already been dealt with."

That was code talk. The other boys were Socs and had already had their hands slapped before they got sent off to class.

"From what I have gathered, words were exchanged and young Mr. Shepard lost his temper and chose to show his displeasure with his fists."

Shepard smacked Curly upside the back of the head and the principal allowed it. He looked from Shepard to where I was standing and continued.

"Young Mr. Curtis joined in when it was apparent his friend was outnumbered and the fight progressed from there."

I didn't move to lay a hand on my brother and I was sure that look on the principal's face was disappointment of some form. I was going to have to talk to Darry about this guy. I didn't want the kid around anyone who wanted to see him hurt.

"Several chairs were bent and two tables were destroyed. Condiments were splattered and the janitorial staff will have their hands full all afternoon."

"Who won?" Shepard asked and Curly smirked

"I don't believe that is relevant, Mr. Shepard. These boys have both had a stern talking to already and are suspended for the next three days. Upon their return there is detention for a week in place of damages. I expect far better behavior upon their return."

"Oh, they'll be better," Shepard promised, but I knew he didn't mean it for Curly.

He would more than likely never be the one to come and get Curly again and Mrs. Shepard could be the one to harp on Curly. If he changed his act, then it was her will and Tim knew how happy that would make his mother. I felt a wince of pain at the thought of my own mother and wondered what she would have done today. She would have been stern with my brother and scolded him and sent him off to bed without dinner. I wasn't sure I could do any of that. That's why neither Soda nor I were raising Ponyboy. We both would need to learn a lot more before we could ever be in charge of another life. Hell, we would probably lose a Goldfish. Darry was forced into it, but he was good at it. He would yell and ground and make things better, not me.

So I didn't say a word while the principal harped about morals and school codes and when we finally left I didn't look at my little brother once. His eyes bore into me, though. I could tell. There were just some things you could easily pick up after Nam. It was all part of survival instincts I knew would fade after time and that thought scared me shitless. What the hell was I supposed to do with myself if I couldn't figure out when I was being watched?

When we got outside Tim affectionately caught Curly in a headlock and called him a few of the big brother patented names reserved for times like these. He nodded to me and was peeled out of the parking lot with Curly whooping loudly before I had even made it to the T-Bird. Ponyboy hopped in and I sighed, following his lead. The engine rumbled to life and the car lurched forward.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Pony asked when we were almost home

"It wouldn't matter if I had anything to say," I replied, taking a corner smoothly "It would only turn into another fight."

"Since when has that ever stopped you?" he asked seriously and I let my fingers clutch the wheel tighter

"Let's not start that," I suggested

"Why not? I get in trouble and you're bound and determined that I'm not even alive."

"You're alive; I might fret over a dead person in the car."

It was not something nice to say, but it beat every other thing in my head I wanted to say to him. I wanted be a hypocrite and tell him that he shouldn't have been noble like that and just let Curly take his licks. I wanted to tell him that there were so many things he was going to have if he played his cards right. I wanted to tell him I was proud of him and Darry and Soda were almost bursting with it. I wanted to tell him not to throw that away. I wanted to tell him that I'd made the same mistakes and look at where it had landed me. But I just couldn't do it. What was the point when the kid hated me?

"Why won't you just talk to me?" he demanded in a low voice so I wouldn't hear the emotion in his voice

"And tell you what? That even after I've graduated I have Principal Harding on my back because this fighting at school shit is apparently my fault because I don't role model you enough? You want me to admit I'm a fuck up even though I never even had the slightest clue I was being tested? You want me to say I screwed up something else in my life?"

"No."

"Then tell me what I'm supposed to do here."

"You're supposed to tell me I didn't do anything wrong, that you've done worse and it's not the end of the world. You could tell me anything that would help explain things to Darry when he gets home. You're not supposed to pick fights and get me all pissed off so I pick them, too."

"Was that why you went after those Socs? Because I have some superpower that makes you pick fights?" I asked and he glared at me "They're Socs, Pony. You can't win against them; not on your own and not backing Curly. Use your head once in a while for something more than Soc practice."

"Look who's talking. Darry said the same thing to you right before –"

"I remember," I snapped "Don't say it"

Darry had told me that the day Ponyboy got jumped. He'd warned me the same week Dallas had died and my life went to hell.

'…_If you'd use your head for more than Soc practice and actually get to caring what happened to other people, you wouldn't get in trouble! Damn it, Pepsi-cola! What were you thinking? They could have killed you…'_

I'd been his age and now I was reiterating the point of them to Ponyboy. He didn't reply, but if looks could kill I would have been six feet under. I wondered what the hell had gotten into that kid. He was too smart for this.

"And don't bring up that murder, either."

"Manslaughter!" Ponyboy corrected angrily

"There's no difference, kid. You kill someone, you kill someone. I'm a murder. I wouldn't be right now if I could have kept my nose clean and just left them alone. You get me?" I snapped

"The Socs are none of your business, not anymore. I can stand up for myself and I don't need you to come and just watch me get my head chewed off by Principal Harding. Darry and Soda would have stuck up for me and Tim even tried!" Ponyboy looked mad "I needed someone in my corner and I had to share with Curly! And as for murdering, I haven't been following your example when it comes to a lot of things."

I swerved the car right then and Ponyboy sent me a panicked look that was a hell of a lot more like him than anything else he'd thrown me in a while.

"Are you trying to kill us?" he demanded and I clenched the wheel a little harder

"Why not? It would make everyone a hell of a lot happier if I could just fill that damn grave!"

His eyes were wide as he gaped at me and I was pretty sure I was scaring the hell out of him. I hated that idea, but I wasn't in control right then. I had to get rid of the kid before I got him and myself killed.

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing. Just nothing, Ok?"

I took a left instead of a right and pulled up in front of the DX. I didn't even have to tell Ponyboy to get out. He scrambled to get the door open and met Soda as he came out the door to see what was going on. I was gone before either of them could think of coming over.

I drove towards home, trying to remember what had started all this over a month ago. Ponyboy had told me I was hiding from the war. He said I wasn't the same person. He was saying I needed to open up and get whatever was eating at me off my chest. He said I needed to do a lot of things that I just couldn't do. He sure knew how to pick at scabs I wished would just turn into scars already. What about what I really needed? Did I even know what that was anymore? I wished he would just leave me alone and then things could go back to the way they used to be. I needed that more than anything.

That night I didn't talk to Dottie and Mrs. M knew well enough to leave me alone. That night no one had to remind me not to smile. That night I screamed myself hoarse through wave after wave of nightmares.

And to think it had started out to be such a good day.

* * *

Well, not the original version of this chapter, but I think this one is better. Hope everyone enjoyed!

Any comments are welcome and flames are accepted!

See ya in the funny papers!!!

Tens


	13. The Long Story

Well, I go bored last night and pulled a binger. Gotta love those…So here is an update, and of course the moon is blue right now…So if it looks odd or makes no sense, blame that. Oh, and the fact I was at five pages when I picked it up last night….

Disclaimer: The usual

Dedication: ToGreaser4Life for poking me along every so often.

On with the shoe!

The cemetery was cold and dreary that morning and it was fitting somehow. Cemeteries were not supposed to be cheerful and happy. They were supposed to make you remember the loss and the pain you'd gone through because you loved someone so much that living without them was torture. I knew there was a reason I avoided the places at all costs, but today I felt like I needed to be here. I wasn't so sure after spending nearly half an hour weaving between graves trying to find the one I was looking for, but I finally made it. Shoving my fists in my pockets, I hunched my back at the cold October wind that was stirring things up. Water was starting to freeze at night and it wouldn't be long until snow and ice would strike Tulsa. It made me wonder if I would miss the jungle just for the warmth. What a laugh that would be. I finally shifted from side to side and wondered how I was supposed to start.

"Hi Dal," I offered and looked down at the graves, trying to picture anything else but rotting corpses "Its Pepsi. Well, You probably figured that one. I'm just gonna sit down and maybe you and me can have a talk."

I sat down on Dallas grave and glanced over at the empty plot beside it. Johnny should have been there. His parents, though…they didn't want their boy anywhere near this hood. It just didn't sit right with me, with any of us, but then Mom always told me it didn't matter what was left over; it was what was gone that lived on. For Johnny and Dallas, I was willing to believe it. If you wanted the truth, Johnny's death didn't impact me like Dallas' had and I found myself never thinking of him. Any time I did, I couldn't get past the thought that Dallas and I should have been the ones to stab Bob and run away and maybe save those kids if we were sober enough. Maybe then there wouldn't be a grave here and it just hurt to think shit like that. So I shook my head and reached into my pocket for the crumpled cigarettes I had picked up on my way over and laid them on what should have been Johnny's grave. I turned my attention to Dallas' headstone.

"Brought you something," I said and pulled a bottle out of my jacket "Nicked from your old man's place. Looks like he was only half way through this bottle."

I poured the whiskey over the grass and watched as it soaked it up greedily. I felt bad then. We hadn't shared a drink since the first anniversary of his death and now it was three anniversaries since that night and I'd been back in Tulsa for about two months. He'd be pissed if he didn't know I'd been thinking about him a lot lately.

"I know you never liked listening to my sob stories, so if it's ok with you I'm just going to sit here for a while."

I sat and watched his tombstone for a while. No one could afford anything decent, so he got the basic _"Dallas Winston. Nov. 9 1948 – Sept. 22 1966."_ Johnny's was the same, but the dates were different. Johnny was only sixteen and Dal…damn, he was just a couple months short of being eighteen. They were both too damn young.

"_Stop staring."_

"I'm not staring," I muttered back "Just looking."

"_Then stop lookin'."_

I sighed. I wasn't having a real conversation – Dally'd been dead for three years. But I was it really that unreasonable to know what he'd say and imagine it? This is why I didn't do grief. I didn't do it then and I sure as hell wasn't going to start now.

My mind drifted as I sat there and I didn't like any of the places it went. So I decided on the most pressing one just for the hell of it. It had nearly been a full week since I had seen hide or hair of Ponyboy – which was something when you considered he was supposed to be home all day spending his suspension doing homework and the like. But like I said, the next week went by without a hitch. I came home, slept, got up, went to work and repeated the process over and over again.

I was dreading the weekend. I knew Darry or Soda would want to talk about whatever the hell they thought went on in the car between Ponyboy and I, but I knew if I was going to get a talking to it was going to be both serious and one sided since I had nothing to say back. If they wanted to know, they could get Ponyboy to spill a hell of a lot easier than they could get me to talk. That was the one good thing about this job; I went on just as Darry and Soda were walking through the front door. It left little time for me to see anyone. Two-Bit had even been mysteriously absent, even at the bar. I was starting to think the only people who didn't mind my company were Dottie and Dallas. I smirked to myself and imagined he might be a little annoyed at me for sitting on his grave like this. Wouldn't that be perfect – to have a corpse mad at me, too. I shook my head and shivered a little from the cold wind.

I drew my knees up to my chest and rested my chin on them.

"_You're moping."_

"Am not," I defended

"_Just like you weren't starin'."_

"Give me a break. My life is shit." I shrugged

"_At least you have a life."_

"Not my fault you don't."

That seemed to shut him up. Believe you me this is about when Dallas Winston would be giving me a black eye, not talking anymore. I was waiting for the usual "fuck you" to come, but I was interrupted by the sound of an engine. I didn't bother to look up and waited for whoever was going to come over to get on with it. I caught a hint of perfume on the wind and hoped to hell it wasn't Sylvia. To say she and I didn't dig each other was like calling an elephant a mouse; it was the understatement of all understatements.

"Hi –er – Soda?"

I didn't need to look up. At least it wasn't Sylvia. I didn't need to start a fight in a graveyard.

"Pepsi," I corrected dully "Hi, Cherry."

Neither of us said anything for a few minutes and finally she stepped forward so I could see her out of the corner of my eye. Her red hair was loose and she was wearing a black skirt. She had flowers in her arms and I made a promise to myself that I was going to let everyone know that if I ever died people were not to bring me flowers.

She set them down in front of the stone and stood out of the way quietly. She finally shifted from foot to foot and I knew she'd want to talk.

"I go to school in Oklahoma City," she stated "I come every year, though."

What did she want? A Medal?

"I just never see you here," she explained

Imagine that.

"Maybe we just miss each other or something."

Doubt it. Nam doesn't give day passes, Sweetheart.

"If not, I guess you have your reasons."

And I don't have to explain them to you.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" she asked, sounding like she was exasperated with me

"You know, dying is the only thing in this world we were born to do," I commented and glanced up at her for the first time "Johnny and Dally just got to it a little faster than you or me."

"What's your point?" she asked, trying to look and sound much tougher than she was

"If it were you in the ground, Dally and me wouldn't bother," I pointed out

"That's where you and me are different then," she stated, the calm outside starting to fade away to the fiery redhead Dallas had joked about getting into his bed

"You'd do well to remember that," I told her

"I wasn't giving them charity, if that's what you're thinking," she defended

"Wouldn't dream of it, Soc."

I got up then, turning away and wishing I hadn't sat so long that my foot was asleep. I didn't look back at her, but there was one last thing that needed to be said.

"When I'm dead, don't bring me flowers."

/-/-/-/-/-/

"Did anyone ever tell you that you have a strange fixation with death?"

I glanced up at Dottie and shrugged. No one had ever told me that, but it was possible she was right. I'd been to see Dal earlier today and basically told Cherry that I wasn't long for this world and everyone would be better off because of it, but that was out of context.

"Seriously, Curtis. You told me yesterday that when winter got here everything was going to be dead, any kid who comes in is dead and that yowling cat out back is dead when you get your hands on it. Then you start to talk about how we all die and that you think some of us need to remember that before muttering about fruit. Your basic death fixation with cherries on top, apparently."

"You've got a fixation with candy then," I countered, not willing to explain Cherry

"Oh?

"Everything is sweet. 'Sweet this' and 'sweet that' and 'sweet so forth'."

"I have cited examples. Nice try, Curtis. King me."

I sighed and set a Coke cap on top of her shot glass. We'd found the checkerboard out back but had nothing to use as pieces. So she was shot glasses, I was rocks and when either of us got King'd, there were bottle caps. It was working out well. We'd considered chess first, but there was no way to make that work with our current pieces. So I jumped one of her shot glass pieces and figured if we were both 21 we could both use shot glasses and fill them with different colored liquor to tell which team was which. Every time you got jumped you'd have to drink that player down. First one drunk pretty much loses.

Obviously I had a lot of time on my hands. Weeknights weren't half as busy as weekends. You had the usual patrons who came by the bar, got a drink and went to wallow away their self-pity. I glanced over Dottie's head and watched one of them for a minute. I liked to pretend I didn't know him, just like he liked to pretend he didn't know me, either. That was one of the hardest parts of this job.

When I took this job I knew I would get people I knew, like Two-Bit, through here all the time. And I would know most of them just because I lived on the east side. A lot of the guys who graduated a year ahead of me were here on the weekend and I had to call a few of Tim's boys on being under 21. But the one person I knew I was expecting deep down was the one person in this entire place I could barely stomach being there. Every time he came up and glared at me, or worse smirked at me like we shared a secret, I just wanted to put my fist through his face. It was lucky for him that Dallas looked so much like the Winston side of the family or I would have; job or no job. There was just something about punching the man Dallas got his looks from that was like punching Dallas himself. I couldn't do it. Didn't matter if he was dead and I wanted to.

So I'd pushed on through the night and had the satisfaction of pitching him out on his ass after he became too drunk to stagger out on his own. I never did understand how people could drown themselves like that unless someone was going off to war or I they just lost their parents or something enormously life affirming. I blame him for the fact I kept losing at checkers.

"So," Dottie broke me from my thoughts as we were cleaning up the bar "There's a party in the Student Centre this weekend, if you want to go?"

I often had to remind myself that she was a college chick. I often had to wonder why I had to remind myself. She was a hell of a lot smarter than anyone else I knew.

"You know, if I'm not grounded until the end of my life, I'll drop by."

"Grounded? Seriously? You're like what, 20?"She asked

"Give me another week and I will be," I corrected, wiping the bar free from the rings of condensation that had dripped from the cold beers served throughout the night

"So, what's up with being grounded?" she asked again and I shrugged

"It's a long story."

"And you have anywhere else to be at one in the morning on a Thursday night?"

I sighed then. She did have a point. Like I said, she was probably the smartest person I had ever met.

"I'll cook you something," she offered "Or are you still too rattled to eat?"

She'd invited me to a burger earlier, but I hadn't been in the mood. Something about the fact Dally would never eat again and the fact not eating eventually led to death had been appealing at the time. My stomach made an appreciative noise at the thought of food and I nodded.

"Good. Let's go to my place – you can tell me the story on the way."

Now, it wasn't like I didn't know where Dottie lived – I'd been dropping her off every night since her car had decided to 'throw a tantrum and was serving a time out for the foreseeable future.' Apparently that meant it was broken down or something. Shirley had suggested that meant something closer to 'she just wants you to give her a ride'. I was so tired of trying to figure out the women I knew. Lily was enamored with a Soc who beat her, Two-Bit's mother was sleeping with the boss that hated me, and Dottie was making excuses to get me alone. If they made any less sense, I was going to…hell, I didn't even know anymore. Probably just let them continue to confuse me or something equally unproductive.

I shook my head and finished locking up while Dottie sat in the idling T-Bird. As far as I knew, Merrill was happy to be rid of the thing, so there was no hurry to get it back. With that thought in mind, I made my way around the car slowly and climbed into the thing like a tired old man probably would. Dottie raised an eyebrow at me and a quiet 'huh' escaped her lips. I sent her a look and she sighed.

"You know, this whole 'the whole world should feel sorry for me' vibe is doing nothing for you, Princess," she stated and I blinked

"I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me," I informed her

"Then you should really check your body language," she replied and I pulled the car out onto the street without comment "So, this grounding story…"

"I may have put the fear of god into my kid bother," I said, remembering the way he had looked at me like I was the scariest person alive

"Why?" she asked simply and I appreciated it

"Long story."

"It always is with you. Try again."

"He doesn't understand anything, but he has this 'holier than thou' attitude about everything that he uses to make you think otherwise," I paused as we turned the corner "I got sick of it and took him on a joy ride that was anything but."

"Huh. What doesn't he get, specifically, that's pissing you off so bad?" she asked and I denied myself the drawn out sigh I felt getting ready to make itself heard

"The war, the veterans, me mostly…I just wish he would leave me alone about it, you know? He keeps telling me I'm hiding from it all because of these nightmares I keep having."

"Might help the dreams if you talk about it."

"Don't you start, too," I ordered and she waved me along "We had a blow up over this guy begging for money by the store. You know what that guy will spend it on? Drugs and booze. So what does he do? He gives the guy money behind my back and essentially accuses me of being just as helpless."

"Did he say that?" she asked and I growled

"Might as well. Accused me of hiding, not confronting it. He said more, but I was done listening. He didn't know shit about it and he was acting like I was the one who knew shit. I wanted to smack him."

"But you didn't."

"No, I held off. I tried to pretend everything was just peachy in my life. So I get a job and everything is starting to calm down again. What does the kid do? He gets himself in trouble and I have to go and bail him out."

"Jail?"

"No, suspension. Had to meet with the Principal and everything. Had a parent teacher conference with Tim Shepard and his kid brother there, too. So we get to the car and he starts accusing me of not defending him and to being a good enough role model and basically screwing up big time even though I didn't know I was. He was mad at me and it wasn't fair."

"Sounds rough," she stated as I pulled up out front her building "Tell me the rest up top so we don't wake the neighbors."

"Sure," I gritted out and cut the engine

I was riled up again and there was nothing I could do about it. I had lost my chance the moment we pulled over. I should have circled the block a few dozen times and screamed until my lungs gave out. Too late now. I got out of the car and followed Dottie upstairs to where her apartment was. She was on the top floor and the whole building was quiet. Yeah, definitely no yelling. I followed along behind her, acutely aware of the fact I had never been in a girls apartment before. It wasn't bad, like I expected. She had nicer furniture than we did at home, there were stacks of books around the room and everything was mildly messy. It felt like Dottie lived here.

"Ok, so your brother seems to have lost faith in you and it's bugging the hell out of you," she summed up "But this has been going on for at least a month. What made last week in the car special?"

"I said something in that car," I sighed "It just came out and it hit me like a wave."

"Something to do with death?" she asked, pulling out a carton of eggs from the fridge "How do you like them?"

"Sunny side up," I told her and she looked at me until I nodded "Yeah, something to do with death."

"Your death?"

"Yeah."

"Pepsi, I'll admit a lot of what I know about your past is second hand, but I would be surprised if it wasn't affecting you. You went and fought in Vietnam, right?" she asked and I nodded "Well, there was a lot of death. It seems reasonable you would be forced to deal with it."

"You don't know the half of it. I was declared dead for four months or something."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Army mix up or something."

"And…?"

"And everyone moved on with their lives. I lost my gal, my kid brother and I grew apart, nothing makes sense anymore and…I dunno."

"You've used up that card, try again."

I sighed, wondering why I wasn't telling her off. Maybe I needed to talk about this or something, but I really didn't want to give her an answer. She just watched me with piercing blue eyes until she had to tend to the eggs. I took that opportunity to get it out before I chickened out.

"I told the kid I was better off filling up that grave."

She turned to look at me then, nothing but honest caring in her eyes. It had been a long time since I got a look just like that. Four whole years. Had it really been that long since my mother died?

"Since then it's the only solution that seems to make sense. I even went to see my dead best friend today and the dead kid who worshiped him. They can't hurt anyone anymore. They can't keep screwing things up and…maybe the Army had it right."

Dottie sat down the spatula and came over to the table. I was forced to crane my neck to look up at her.

"Pepsi, I doubt anyone would prefer you dead. That statement scared someone who loves you enough to tell you the things you don't want to hear. If you told your brothers what you just told me, they would be in a state because they love you. Right now, the only person confused about this death thing is you," she pointed out gently "And when you get it figured out, everyone else will still feel the same way."

She turned away from me then to tend to the eggs and I mulled over what she had said. A lot of it made sense and that was the most confusing part of it all. I was glad we ate in silence and I was glad when she suggested I sleep on her couch instead of driving home. I knew for a fact I needed a few days of thinking before I dared go home. She was right. Death scared the hell out of my family, even if I needed it, but what I needed more was to figure this out before I did something stupid and got everyone worried for nothing.

Something told me it was going to be a long couple of days.

* * *

Huh. Not really sure what I wanted to accomplish in this chapter, but it gets the ball rolling. Hopefully this was a good recap for everyone and everyone enjoyed and all that.

Any comments at all are welcome and flames are accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!!!

Tens


	14. Tequila and Twins

Yeah, it's been a while. Blame life, 'cause that's who I'm pointing my finger at.

Disclaimer: The usual

On with the show...

The next evening Dottie and I walked the three blocks over to the college campus she was attending. Apparently there was some party there and she'd asked me to come with. Well, aside from sitting on her couch and watching _Rawhide_ and_ Bonanza_ I had nothing to do anyways. Yeah, I liked westerns. You would too if the only thing your kid brother ever watched was _Perry Mason, The Addams Family, Mr. Ed, _and _The Honeymooners. _He controlled the TV because he was the only one not too lazy to get up and change the channel. At least there was some action in a western. I wondered if it would have been better to have never got off the couch because as we got closer I could tell there would be no action at this party.

Everyone was dressed up nice when we walked in and I felt immediately out of place in my clean shirt and roughed up jeans. There was soft music playing and I could tell you for a fact it wasn't Elvis or Hank Williams. When Dottie asked me to this school party, I wasn't sure what to expect. Now I knew what it was like to be a greaser at a Soc party. I felt stupid for coming. Yeah, it's not unusual for me to feel this way, but tonight I was really hoping I could just be someone else. Maybe if I had have gone on to college instead of Nam, I wouldn't have felt so out of place right then.

"You ok?"

I glanced down at where Dottie was giving me a look that I often got from Darry. It was the 'you look like you're about to bolt' look. I was all right, just horribly out of place. I shrugged looking around the party.

"Fine. Just out of place."

"Just mingle and you'll do fine," she urged. "If not, I know for a fact those boys plan to spike the punch."

"Real wild crowd," I said sarcastically and she smirked at me.

"Just wait. I'm sure someone's going to get a paper cut and all hell's going to break loose," she teased and I smirked. "Come on, I'll introduce you to some girls I know."

"Trying to set me up on a date already?" I asked and she elbowed me in the ribs.

"Anyone ever tell you you're an asshole?" she asked and I nodded.

"Daily in some cases."

Dottie ignored my comment and pulled me towards where a blonde and a redhead were standing. I didn't know either of them, but they were looking at me like they knew me better than was socially proper. I wanted to squirm, but you just didn't do that when you were a tough greaser.

"Charlene, Franny; I'd like you to meet –"

"Sodapop. Sure, we know him," Charlene broke in.

"Works down at the DX. rain or shine. If it's shine, he doesn't even wear a shirt some days…" Franny trailed off.

"No, this isn't Sodapop," Dottie said looking at me with a confused frown and I shrugged.

"He's my twin brother," I explained and she pinched my arm – hard.

"Ow," I said, rubbing at it to take the sting out.

"You might want to mention that the next time you meet someone," she pointed out and I shrugged.

"I told them, didn't I?"

Dottie shook her head at me and the girls looked me over like I was something new now. I think I liked the weird intimate looks over this hungry cannibal look I was getting now.

"I'm gonna grab some punch. Want some?" I asked and Dottie nodded.

I went over to the punch table, circling it so I could still see the girls. Would you turn your back on two girls who looked like they wanted to eat you alive? Yeah, didn't think so either.

They were all giggling over something and Dottie was blushing something awful. I tried to concentrate on hearing what they were talking about. I'd noticed no one ever seemed to want to talk directly to me, but rather about me. These girls were no different. It was frustrating.

"How'd you land him, Dot?" Charlene asked and Dottie shook her head slightly.

"We work together. We're friends."

"Honey, that is not a boy you're friends with," Charlene informed her. "That is the kind of boy you get to know every part of with your tongue."

"Charlie!" Dottie looked scandalized and I rolled my eyes.

Girls.

"Seriously," Charlene jumped in again. "If you can't have the hot DX boy, take the twin."

"He looks glum," Franny stated, tilting her head to the side a little to look over at me.

"He's going through a rough patch," Dottie explained.

"He needs ice cream." Franny said. "Ice cream makes everything better."

I decided to put a stop to the conversation before it got any further.

"Here," I said, handing Dottie the cup of punch. "It's not spiked yet."

"Thanks," she said with a blush still tingeing her cheeks.

"So," Charlie said, smiling at me over her own cup, "The party is turning out to be pretty dull."

"What do you suggest?" Dottie asked.

"Well, we could head on over to The Way Out and get some dancing in."

"I like that idea," Franny nodded.

"What do you think?" Charlie asked, looking over at me and I shrugged.

"If you want to see a good beating, then sure."

All three of the girls frowned and I sighed. Girls. You had to spell everything out for them.

"It's a Soc hang out."

"So?" Franny asked and realization seemed to dawn on Dottie. "Why should that matter?"

"He's a Greaser," Dottie pointed out. "He wouldn't be caught dead at the Way Out without starting a fight."

I smirked at her. Yeah, she got it.

"That old thing is still going on?" Charlie tittered. "Silly for them to be fighting like that."

I set my still full punch cup down and was about to tell her exactly what was silly about it when Dottie set a hand on my forearm and looked her friends over coolly.

"It isn't silly to them," she pointed out. "Anyways, I think we should get going. I'll see you both in class on Monday."

She turned the pair of us around right about then and we made our way back towards the exit.

"You don't have to leave," I told her.

It had been the same attitude of anyone who hadn't grown up on one side of it or the other. I was more than used to it.

"Were you having fun? I sure wasn't," she replied. "Lets go do something fun!"

"Like what?" I asked, thinking that my idea of fun and her idea of fun probably weren't the same thing.

"Well, let's head on over to the pool hall or go dancing or something," she suggested, "If we get bored, there's a bottle of Bourbon at my place."

"You should know better, working at a bar and all," I told her with a smirk.

"I do know better. Sometimes I just don't care." She shrugged, leading the way out of the party and back to the quiet sidewalk we'd taken to get there barely half an hour ago.

I shook my head and followed Dottie wherever she wanted to go.

The next morning, I woke up pretty hung over on Dottie's couch. The room spun for the first few minutes after I opened my eyes and it took a lot of effort to get that under control. The TV was off and the apartment was quiet. I assumed Dottie was either out or passed out. I groaned, wondering if I had work or not. I didn't even know what day it was. I couldn't even remember the last time I got this drunk. In fact, I distinctly remember having given up drinking at one point and swearing I was never going to feel this bad again. I finally managed to sit up and glanced at the coffee table. There was an empty bottle of Tequila sitting there. I frowned. I thought it was Bourbon we were going to be drinking. It was no wonder I felt this sick if we'd gone through that whole bottle of Tequila.

I tried to think about just what happened last night. It was pretty much an alcohol induced blur, but from the little gaps in the Tequila whirlwind I recalled we'd gone dancing and ended up at Buck's at some point. That explained the hang over. Buck promised me a bottle of Tequila when I finally brought another chick in with me. I was surprised either of us remembered that. It had been years since he promised me that. Lily thought drinking was immoral at our age and never came with me, even if I told her I was going it sober that night. She didn't trust me around my friends where there would be a bar.

Dottie obviously didn't have that problem. She was legal and kept a bottle of bourbon in the house. She was the one that got me drinking this time. She was the one who worked at a bar and said she didn't care sometimes, even if she knew better.

I sighed, hoping to hell I wasn't comparing the women in my life. Dottie was just a friend and Lily was just a memory. Right now I didn't need anyone complicating my life more than I was already complicating it on my own.

There was a knock on the door a few minutes later and I ignored it. The person knocked again and I hollered for them to just come in. I finally got up after the third round of banging and wondered who my hangover had managed to bug already. I pulled the door open and frowned.

"What're you doing here?" I asked.

"Pepsi, are you drunk?" Soda asked, closing the door behind him and I waved him off.

"No, I'm hung over. There's a difference," I grunted, sitting back down on the couch while Soda looked around the living room with his hands in his pockets. "What are you doing here, Sodapop?"

"We've been looking for you for two days," he answered. "So when these two girls mentioned they'd seen you at a party last night and that you'd been with a friend of theirs…well, I thought it was worth a try."

I sighed. I really didn't like Franny and Charlene any more today than I did last night.

"Well, you found me," I pointed out.

"Yeah. Did you drink that whole bottle of Tequila?" Soda asked, picking it up and shaking it to make sure there was nothing left in it.

"No, Dottie helped," I paused. "I think. We did some shots at Bucks before we ended up here."

"Well, you look like hell."

"Thank you, Sodapop. Now, would you get to the point of this little visit?"

Soda sighed, sitting on the couch near my feet, his fingers searching for the pilling fabric that was basically making up our whole couch at home. He didn't find any on Dottie's, so he started pulling at his denim-covered knee. I sighed and offered him my ankle where the fabric of my jeans was falling apart in strings. He smirked lightly before pulling at them. It was a nervous habit of Sodapop's. He did it whenever there was too little going on and he needed something to do with his hands. At least he had that. I don't know how many times I had considered picking up smoking just to have something to do with my hands.

Soda sighed and looked at my leg for a few minutes before finally saying something.

"Ponyboy told me what happened."

I nodded. Yeah, the kid used to tell me everything, too. Soda had always been the first stop, though. Soda always knew what to say to make things better. Soda always had good ideas and ways to comfort the kid. Me? Well, I was good at beating up whoever had made the kid upset. I glanced at the Tequila and figured I'd managed to do it again.

"I know," I replied, hoping Soda would go on.

"He was pretty shaken up." Soda met my eyes then. "Do you really think we want you dead?"

I sighed. This is why context was so important.

"I didn't say that. I meant it would have been easier if I hadn't made it out of Nam."

"How can you say that?" he demanded. "You were dead for four months to us and they were some of the hardest months of our lives. After losing Mom and Dad and then Johnny and Dallas…How can you say that?"

"Soda…"

"You and me, we don't always act like it, but we're twins. You died and it felt like something was missing all the time. I felt like that with Mom and Dad, but it went away after a while. Then you came back and it was there again."

Soda was looking like I'd shot his puppy and I couldn't look at him. The tequila bottle occupied my vision as Sodapop sighed and seemed to be thinking on what he wanted to say next. Either that or he was waiting for me to say something. I didn't know what to say. I hadn't thought Sodapop was that passionate about who we were. I'd never been that way. Sodapop was my brother. I'd always treated him like he and Darry and Pony were equal. The pair of us had always stayed out of each other's way and we really had nothing in common. It made me wonder how I would feel if we were in each other's shoes. I didn't want to think on that. My head thumped enough on its own without those pleasant little thoughts thrown in.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Soda," I finally said when it looked like Sodapop wasn't going to say anything.

"It's not what you say; it's what you do. Lately you've been shoving us all away. You've even pretty much run away from home."

"I haven't been gone that long."

"Sure feels like it," Soda informed me. "You haven't really been here since you and Lily broke it off."

"I'm fine," I told Soda before he could start.

"I mean, you were so happy to be home and then you started having nightmares," Soda went on, "And you won't talk about them. You act like you're punishing yourself for whatever went on over there."

"You weren't there, Soda," I sighed, closing my eyes.

"What did you do that was so bad? Everyone killed over there. Steve killed! But you both came back alive."

I pressed the palms of my hands into my eyes, hoping to make the pain of my hangover go away. Soda had no idea what I'd done. He had no idea.

He sighed and pulled at a few more of the strings on my cuff. "Ponyboy was only trying to help."

Help? He'd forced me into a corner. He'd called me a coward. He'd tried to make me relive the things I never wanted to think about again. And then he'd pulled back so suddenly I'd metaphorically face planted. They had no clue. None of them. Darry was the only one who seemed to get the hint and leave me alone.

"I know."

And I did know. In his own way, he was trying to help. I just wished he would actually take a step back and give me a little more space. I smirked a little. Pony and Darry weren't like that. You either went all out or you weren't trying. I'd forgotten how tenacious he could be. I shouldn't have been surprised.

"So, are you going to come home?"

"Soda, I'm not sure if I can even get up again, let alone make it home."

"And that's what brothers are for," he said, standing up and offering me his hand. "C'mon, Darry has the day off and he said he'd cook your favorite, if I could find you."

I groaned one last time for good measure before grabbing Soda's hand. He pulled me up and I stood stock still, letting the world stop spinning.

"You ok?" Soda asked and I nodded.

"Lets go home, Sodapop."

* * *

Ok, I will try very hard to work on updating more! Hey, beats coming up short on a promise, right?

Any comments at all are welcome and flames are accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!!!

Tens and Zickachik


	15. Hard Talks

Hey everyone! A chapter! Yes, be very proud. Chapter 15, I think it is, could have been longer, but that would have been extrodinarily long, so I am working on the next part. As usual, special thanks go out to Zickachik!

On with the shoe!

Chapter 15

Apparently it was after ten when Soda turned up at Dottie's place. I had slept the better part of the day away, again. That was typical on a weekend. The tequila hangover was not so appreciated, but when was it ever? When we finally walked in the house, it was close to eleven. I had work at six, so that gave me the whole day to fend off this hangover. Darry stuck his head out of the kitchen when he heard us come in and I waved.

"Drunk or just hung-over?" he asked and I glared at him. "Hung-over."

"Think you can help him out?" Soda asked as I flopped down onto the couch with a groan.

"Yeah. Don't let him leave," Darry warned and I frowned.

Darry honestly thought I was going to wander off with my head thumping the way it was? Damn, he was dumb. I'd finally got deposited on my own couch after two days on someone else's. In short, I wasn't going anywhere.

Soda plopped down in the chair and picked up the same old magazine that had been sitting there for over a year. I got the feeling that Soda read it differently each time he picked it up. I often wished I could look at things the way he did.

Darry was back a minute later with Dad's hangover remedy. Don't ask me what's in it, I didn't know and I didn't want to know. He'd only shared it with Darry before he died and Darry liked lording over the disgusting stuff. Damn, I sometimes considered just keeping the headache to avoid it. It tasted like raw eggs, tomato, and wet dog. I sighed and chugged it back in one shot. If I slept for an hour, I'd be cured of all symptoms. As it was, I wasn't going to be allowed to go back to sleep, so I accepted the aspirin Darry was holding out and rested my eyes for a few minutes until they kicked in enough to make my head feel a little less like it was entertaining **its** own one-man band.

"Feel better?" Darry asked and I nodded. "Good."

I sat there and waited. After a few minutes, it was obvious Darry wasn't going to yell at me. I sighed and raised an eyebrow at him. He just sent me back that same stiff jawed, not-pleased look he'd been sending me since I walked in. It was a lot like the looks Darry threw me when I got in trouble the one time after Dallas died. He wanted to yell at me, but at the same time he knew where yelling got you.

"Darry?" Sodapop prodded after a minute and we both sent him dirty looks.

"I don't know what's up with you lately," Darry finally said. "I thought that once you got back here everything would go back to normal. But things haven't been normal around here in years. We keep getting a new definition of normal every time something happens, but not this time."

I nodded slightly and he locked eyes with me. I couldn't look away and I wanted to fidget like mad.

"I know," I replied. "I don't want this either."

"Then do something about it," Darry directed and I shook my head. "Why not?"

"I don't…It's complicated."

"We're here to help," Sodapop said gently. "You can talk to us."

"No, I cant," I told him firmly and his rarely seen stubborn look came out. I sighed internally, waiting for the push.

"What is it about that war that makes you just…act like this?" he asked and I shrugged. Both Soda and Darry opened their mouths to say something, but I beat them to it.

"War is hell," I finally answered with another shrug and looked down at my knees. "It screws you up something awful. Let's just leave it there."

"That's been the problem for the last month," Soda interjected. "You didn't leave it there."

I didn't know what to say to that. He was right, but damned if I was going to admit to that.

"And whether you want to admit it or not, it's driving you crazy because you won't deal with it," Darry put in.

"I am!" I defended, knowing it was the biggest lie I'd told in a while.

Darry sent me a skeptical look and I imagine Soda was throwing me a pity look, but I couldn't look over at him. I didn't want pity.

"You scared Ponyboy. You're scaring me and Darry and even Two-Bit and Steve," Soda said with a serious tone.

"Especially Ponyboy," Darry put in. "The way I hear it, you practically did everything but hit him."

He made it sound a lot worse than it was. Or was it that bad and I just didn't know well enough to tell anymore?

"Yeah, like you haven't done worse," I said, rubbing at my eye.

I glanced up at Darry and saw emotion cross his face in a quick wave. I paused and realized what I'd just said.

"I didn't mean that," I apologized. "I've just never…God, I just wanted…"

I shrugged exaggeratedly and Darry sighed. Yeah, I didn't have a very effective filter between what I was thinking and what actually came out of my mouth. I just wasn't a talker. I never had been. That was Sodapop and Ponyboy. When something bugged them, they talked until it didn't bother them anymore. Darry…well, he liked to talk himself through things. I knew that from sharing a bedroom with the guy for roughly 14 years. He liked to just talk when he thought I was asleep or out of the room. It was his way.

"Well, whatever's going on between the two of you needs to stop. Now. I've put up with a lot over the years, but I won't put up with it anymore, not under this roof."

I nodded. God, Darry had a way of just making me feel rotten these days. Maybe it was the just the hang over.

"Ponyboy's in his room. Why don't you go talk to him?" Soda coaxed and I shrugged before hauling myself up off the couch. Why not? What could it hurt if I tried to talk first for once?

"If I don't come out in an hour, I may need someone to come in and save me," I joked, half serious at the same time.

Soda sent me an encouraging look and Darry just looked lost. I sent him a tiny smile before walking down the hall. The door was closed and I didn't bother to knock. It was my room too, damn it.

Ponyboy was sitting on the bed with a bunch of books spread out on it. I noticed my side was pretty well undisturbed. He glanced up at me and I ignored him, flopping down on the bed and closing my eyes. God, that felt like heaven.

Neither of us said anything for a few minutes. Ponyboy didn't even turn a page or scribble a note. From the raised hair on the back of my neck, I was willing to bet that he was busy staring at me. I threw an arm over my eyes a moment later to block out even more light and I sighed to myself. I knew I had to say something, but it was just so damn hard to think of something to say.

"Hung over again?" he asked and he didn't sound impressed and I grunted in response. "Two-Bit said he saw you staggering out of Buck's with a bottle of tequila and some chick on your arm."

"I miss this bed," I finally said, ignoring every opening he'd sent me for an argument at least. "Damn lumpy mattress and all."

"Want to work out a schedule or something? You get the bed on even days of the week, alternate weekends?" he asked with sarcasm in his voice and I frowned.

"No."

"Well, it's my bed, too, and if you think I'm just gonna let you have it, you can just forget it and go right on back to the couch," he stated.

"We're fighting," I pointed out needlessly. "I haven't said more than a couple handfuls of words and we're fighting."

"And you're surprised after the last month we've had?" he asked and I sighed, loudly.

"Nope. Just didn't expect it to happen the one time I figured to actually talk to you and sort this out," I replied, sitting up and smirking at him "Makes me reminiscent of you and Darry way back when. Didn't matter what you were going to talk about, someone always ended up yelling."

He just looked at me and I felt the smirk fall from my face. Not that it was anything beyond a half assed effort at one, but hey. Neither of us said anything as I left the room and went out the front door. Steve jumped a foot as the door collided with the side of the house and I strode out onto the porch. He dropped his cigarette on his shirt and picked it back up before rubbing at the scorch mark on fabric over his chest.

"Jesus Christ," he cursed, putting out his cigarette on the rail. "Thanks for that."

"Suck it up, Steve," I suggested staring out at the street. "Do they ever bother you?"

"Everybody bothers me," he replied irritably. "Especially you."

"I meant about the war," I clarified, ignoring his comment.

"Pepsi-cola Shawn Curtis!" Darry hollered and I sighed.

The door hit the side of the house half a moment later and both Steve and I looked at him, both mildly surprised. He stopped and looked a little surprised himself. I suppose he still thought I was going to take off running for the hills, especially since things hadn't gone well with Ponyboy. I was tempted, but I knew that wouldn't get me very far now that they knew where Dottie lived. Come to think of it, Sodapop knew all my haunts because we kept the same ones.

"You go anywhere and I'll skin you," he threatened.

"That's fair." I nodded. "Now, Steve and I were having a conversation."

Darry sent Steve a sharp look. The pair of us never got along. We avoided even looking at each other some days. Darry looked back at me and I could almost see his brain doing somersaults as he tried to put together the thousands of possibilities about what Steve and I could have been plotting just to make his life hell. I hated to disappoint him, but the only one who ever went along with my plots was Dallas and vice versa. Steve just didn't have it in him to cause that level of chaos without someone he trusted backing him.

Darry sent the pair of us one last puzzled look before going back into the house. I looked over at Steve expectantly and he shrugged, fishing out another cigarette from his pack.

"Soda tired once. I told him about the drugs and the night I ran into you. That was where he left it because I asked him to." He flicked out his lighter and lit the end of his smoke.

"No one else really bothered to try. I don't think they wanted to know, what with you being dead and all."

"Soda," I sighed shaking my head. "He hasn't asked me, just offered to listen more times than I can count. Darry's implied the same and Ponyboy's been gnawing me about it since I got back here. The kid wants to know everything."

"When doesn't he?" Steve shook his head "He practically shadows Soda everywhere. And he questions everything Darry tells him. He's not like us that way."

I nodded. If there was one thing I would admit to having in common with Steve Randle, it was the fact that he and I both didn't deal with things by analyzing and talking. Soda could make Steve tell him anything. It was the same with Dallas and I. Dallas, no matter what I said, never discouraged me from saying what was on my mind, and even if it started a fight between us, it was often welcome on some level. Sometimes I could get him to tell me what was on his mind, too, but Dallas was worse than me when it came to talking about anything. God, I missed him something awful. Believe it or not, the closest I had found to replacing that aspect of Dallas' presence was Dottie. I found myself spilling to her more than I wanted to admit.

"You know, he'll listen. They – we – all will," Steve finally said. "I know when I got back, I practically told my dad everything. He was in Korea until he got shot in the leg and sent home."

I nodded. Well, his dad – even though he could be a world class jerk to Steve – probably got it better than anyone else around here he could talk to. I just couldn't help but wonder whether Steve fed him more ammo to torture him with.

"I know," I finally replied.

"We all did things over there we're not proud of. There's nothing I wouldn't give to erase the memory of killing people." He took a long drag on his smoke and let it out slowly. "You didn't do nothing worse than I did over there."

"I wouldn't bet on it, Steve."

We were silent after that until Steve finished up his cigarette and started off towards his place. I didn't know if that was where he was headed, but it didn't much matter to me.

"Steve?" I called after him and he turned. "You pretty well did tell me that night, but if you do need to talk, I'll listen, too."

He just turned around and started back on his way. I watched him go and finally slumped down so I was sitting on the top step with my back against the rail. It offered a good view of the street and you could look through the screen door and make out the TV if you wanted to. There was a light breeze that made me shiver from time to time, but I was ignoring it.

It seemed like forever and a day later when Ponyboy stumbled out the door and glared back through it where you could barely make out Soda's hand retreating from the doorway. I looked up at him and he ran a hand through his hair before flopping down on the step and looking at me expectantly.

"I don't get it," he said, frustration in his voice. "I tried to get you to talk to me a couple dozen times and now you're going to because Soda and Darry say you have to?"

"Pony –"

"Why?" he asked and I waited for the question that went with the 'why'. "Do you think I'm still a little kid or something? Do you honestly think I can't handle what you could tell me?"

"It's nothing like that and you know it," I told him.

"Then why?" he asked and I smirked a little.

"It seems like since you were old enough to open your mouth all that comes out of it is 'why?'"

"Pepsi," he sounded exasperated.

"You want the answer to your question?" I asked and he nodded like it was obvious. "I don't know how, alright."

He sent me a confused look and I looked out at the street for a moment, knowing that wasn't going to cut it with Ponyboy, but it was the best answer I had.

"What do you mean?" he asked and I really wished he were that fourteen-year-old kid again. He always seemed to get me back then. Now that he was sixteen, he must have figured it was high time I learned to use my words rather than let Pony string things together until they made sense.

"I don't do this talking out your feelings bit." I nearly growled at the idea of how frustrating that could turn out to be "To top it off, you don't want to know how I feel right now. You want to know about Nam, about my dreams, about my last mission, my orders, the horrible things I did, the people I let jerk me around. And I just can't because I don't know how to tell you without having you look at me worse than you have been lately."

"So instead you hold it in. You let those nightmares eat you up inside because you don't feel guilty enough when you're awake." He shook his head "And instead of letting any of us help you, you just make it harder with stupid thoughts like that."

I mulled that over in my head for a minute while Ponyboy glared at the houses across the road. He was getting stubborn in his old age – a trait he'd inherited from Mom – and I sighed to myself. I was going to have to tell him or we were never going to get past this. Damn kid. He didn't know shit. Well, maybe it was time he learned.

"You know what a sniper is, Ponyboy?" I asked him and he nodded. "I don't mean the job, I mean the position."

"What's the difference?" Soda asked and I glanced over my shoulder at where he and Darry were both standing in the doorway. So much for a private chat. Maybe it was better this way – to get it all told once.

"A sniper is either the most respected guy in the field or the most despised, depending on who you talk to. What he does is both underhanded and helpful all wrapped up into one. He sees the least action, but makes his fair share of kills. And if he's good, he never gives the enemy a fighting chance."

"So you were a sniper? That's not so bad." Ponyboy was trying to reassure me, but he didn't know what he was talking about. He didn't know shit, but he was trying – I saw that now.

"Yeah," I said, looking back across the street. "But I was worse."

* * *

Ok, chapter break! 

Any comments are welcome and flames accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!!!

Tens and Zickachik


	16. Hard Truths

Well, this one has been a long time in coming. Sorry for the wait. And, as always, thanks to Zickachik for going over it and helping out with coherency. It's been a long three drafts. Any mistakes are mine.

Disclaimer: The usual.

Chapter 16

"How could you be worse?" Pony asked and I shrugged.

"Pony," Darry sighed and Pony shrugged. That was ok, it was a valid question.

"Got a cigarette, Ponyboy?" I blurted out and they all looked at me like I was crazy.

"You don't smoke," he replied, reaching into his pocket for one anyways.

I shrugged, taking the slender stick and rolling it between my hands and fingers, not offering an answer. I wasn't as fidgety as Sodapop. I just needed something to play with absent-mindedly and I was set. There was rarely leg bouncing or picking at fabric for me, mainly because I made a point not to. I'd asked for the cigarette so I wouldn't have to spring for paint. There were a few chips and rolled flakes on the deck. Soda and I both picked at them when we were bored and it was only fair that whichever of us peeled the deck bare would have to paint the whole thing. We'd done it a time or two and I just did not have the energy to slap a fresh coat on. It was going to snow soon and we could avoid shoveling and no one would know the difference, anyways.

"Pepsi?" Darry prodded and I sighed.

"I got into some trouble," I told them. "And I just happened to be lucky enough to do it in front of a colonel. I thought for sure I'd be sent to jail or something."

"What did you do?" Pony asked, looking enthralled. I wished I felt anything but disgusted.

I rolled the cigarette around my palms again and leaned back against the rail a little more.

"I only got along with one guy in basic – Gabe Roy – and it turns out the Sergeant who made my life hell knew what he was doing when he recommended we get posted together. Trouble was, we always found trouble. That night? We were in their idea of a jail, detoxing after a good night of drinking when the whole place exploded. Apparently we were being shot at by a bunch of Gooks. So they let us out to fend for ourselves. Even half-drunk, I picked up a rifle."

I could still see the explosions and the flames, even feel the heat as the night was turning into day.

"One of the first things I did was haul myself on top of a rickety little shack and started shooting at anyone who wasn't wearing the right colors. Gabe nearly killed the pair of us when he tried to climb up there with me. By the end of the fighting, the damn thing had collapsed under us, knocking the pair of us out. When we woke up, we were in the triage hospital with this one brass that was impressed by us fighting like that. Apparently I hit my mark more times than I missed. So the guy enrolled me in some informal sniper training."

I sighed, tapping the deck with the cigarette.

"Isn't that standard?" Soda prodded.

"If you say so," I replied with a shrug. "They don't make regular army into snipers. That's what they trained the Marines for."

"So you were a Sniper after that," Ponyboy prompted.

"I'm getting there, kid," I told him and Ponyboy gave me a patient look. "Colonel Bricker was the one who had set me up with this job and he was the one that dolled out the missions. Nearly every week, he'd send me off to make sure someone didn't make it back to where they were supposed to be."

"So it wasn't random," Ponyboy pointed out.

"Exactly."

"But they were still bad people. You can't feel bad about that," Pony tried and I felt a bitter smile tug at my lips.

"I'm sure guys on the other side thought the same thing. It's all about your view. Maybe a few of them were good or bad. It doesn't much matter. We were all people killing other people." I shrugged. "That all changed for me. One day, I found out I'd been sent out to kill a bunch of Cong who were apparently dressed in our uniforms and attacking once our guys let their guard down to friendly colors approaching. Well, they weren't just dressed in our uniforms, they were ours. No mistakes, no fuck ups on my part. So I started asking questions. I didn't like the answers."

I sighed and looked across the street for a moment, wondering how I could explain everything clearly when I had no idea what it was supposed to be like in my own head.

"It was the ultimate kick in the gut to go from having a purpose to finding out you were working under the table the whole time."

"You didn't know," Soda said, looking like he wanted to come off the wall and hug me or something. I wished he wouldn't. It would just make it harder to tell.

"Yeah."

"So you quit, right?" Pony prompted, trying to make some sense out of what I was telling him.

"I tried. Bricker laughed at me." I shook my head. "I thought I had him by the balls and it turned out he had me."

"What did he do?" Pony was looking caught up in the story again. The kid always had the damnedest imagination.

"He explained a few things to me. My orders didn't exist, I was working jobs that the brass didn't approve, and there was the case of my last job having gotten six Marines killed," I explained. "I told him I didn't care."

"So he threatened you with more time over there? Jail maybe?" Pony asked.

I blinked at him, wondering if he was completely insane.

"Hell no, kid," I breathed. "I could have handled that. I would have put a stop to it all if that was all he had on me."

"Then what?"

"You."

"Me?" he frowned.

"Yeah, you. Bricker was a bastard. He knew all about Mom and Dad being dead and that you were under Darry's guardianship. He never took on anyone before he knew how to hit them the hardest and he did his research well. It ensures loyalty – even if it isn't voluntary."

"What would he have done about that?" Darry asked, his face set in a serious look. "Even if he managed to get my guardianship challenged, it would have taken weeks, that's after a court date was scheduled."

"You don't get the army, Dar. When they want something done, they just go through channels that wouldn't be questioned. Challenging you would have been questioned."

"So, explain how he could have hurt Ponyboy all the way from Vietnam," Darry ordered.

Darry was always on edge what it came to anything that could possibly harm Ponyboy, especially after what happened the night Sheldon died. We managed to slide through that one by the skin of our teeth. It wasn't likely that there would be a second time, but if there was, there wouldn't be a third strike for us.

"One word for you, Dar: Drafted."

"Drafted?" Darry frowned.

"That's what he used on me. He told me he'd get you and Soda drafted if I breathed a word," I told them. "And then he told me he'd make sure Ponyboy would end up in a nice home with a pedophile somewhere."

"He couldn't do that," Sodapop said with a shake of his head. "Someone would have stopped him."

"Yeah, right. We all know that there isn't anyone out there who would stick their neck out for a Greaser kid," I sighed. "Especially if the army offers to foster him with someone they cleared."

Ponyboy stared down at his knee, absently rubbing at one of the rips sewn in his jeans.

"Not to mention both Soda and Darry fighting. We could have all died over there and chances are, Pony would have stayed a pet project of Bricker's." I shook my head, hating the man.

"So you killed people because he could have hurt me?" Pony asked. "You didn't know he could do that. You should have told someone anyway."

"Don't," I growled. "Just don't. You weren't there. You didn't see the things that happened over there."

"That was over there!" Pony argued, turning to look at me. "This is here. He couldn't do that here!"

"I wasn't willing to take that chance," I told him and he looked back at his jeans.

"So instead you kept on killing people." He sounded disgusted.

"I did," I affirmed. "I took the jobs, shot who I was told to shoot and did my time. I'd make the same choice again."

They all looked away from me then. This is why I didn't want to tell them. Now they knew I killed people. Now they could never look at me the same again.

"It gets worse. Do you want me to stop?" I asked and they all looked at me then.

"Keep on talking," Darry finally said and I sighed. "How could it get worse?"

"I asked myself the same thing. Then we ended up in Bien Hoa two months before my time was up. I knew Bricker had another job for me. I just didn't know he planned to be so brutal."

Ponyboy lit a cigarette and I held my hand out for his lighter. He looked shocked, but handed it over anyway. I lit the cigarette in my hand and took a long drag from it. The smoke left as smoothly as it came in, causing all three of my brothers to stare at me like they'd never seen me before.

"Bricker told me he wanted me to go on this mission, an eight-man special ops team. We were going to go into China and assassinate the assholes running the war."

"That doesn't sound too bad," Soda pointed out hopefully. I just looked at him, remembering I'd thought that, too. Then I heard the rest.

"There was a Lieutenant who was going to lead the mission. Lieutenant Tolliver. Apparently, he was in deep with Bricker. He knew more than I did, he did more than I did, and because of it, he was a liability. And I had orders to kill him."

My hand shook as I brought the cigarette back to my lips. I frowned at it and took another drag before resting my hand on my knee.

"Trouble was, this team had weeks of training and briefing to get to know each other. By the time we were on the mission, I was nearly driving myself crazy over it."

"Did you kill him?" Ponyboy asked and I smirked.

"No. I never got the chance," I replied. "He died a week and a half into the mission. So we carried on without him. And the whole time we marched towards China, I knew that we were risking our lives for nothing, that we needed to turn around before anyone else got hurt. But I would have had to tell them why."

"But you didn't?"

"Is that so wrong, Pony?" I asked and he looked away again. "Well, I'll tell you now that it was. I was only protecting my sorry ass by doing that. Because of me, they probably all lost their lives."

"Probably?" Darry asked.

"I never found out. We were so tired we walked into the middle of a battlefield and I ended up in a hospital bed for the next three weeks until they sent me home."

I left out my own suspicions about Bricker's intentions about ever sending me home. I mean, according to Darry I was listed as killed in action when we started training in Bien Hoa. That was before we even headed out. I wasn't meant to be here right now because I could have told all that to some military brass instead of my brothers. I was lucky someone didn't shoot me before I got here.

We were all quiet for a while after that. I took another drag on the cigarette and felt like I was going to be sick.

"So, now you know not only was I a sniper, but I targeted people on my own side," I said, clearing my throat. "I was a traitor. Are you happy now?"

Ponyboy didn't answer, so I stabbed out my cigarette out and pushed myself to my feet.

Sodapop was looking off into space, glancing at me once quickly before looking away again. Yeah, I wouldn't want to look at me, either. But Darry was watching me like I was a puzzle. I looked away, wishing I hadn't crushed out that cigarette.

I honestly couldn't tell you what happened after that. I just went in the house and flopped down on Sodapop's bed and stared at the ceiling for a while. I couldn't believe I had said what I had. I was alone now. Everything just became ten times harder. But that's what I wanted, wasn't it? I needed to feel like this for everything I'd done.

The bed shifted and I glanced at where Darry was sitting on the edge of it. He was still watching me and I wondered why.

"They vote you in here?" I asked and Darry nodded.

"I always got you better than anyone else in this family."

"That's because you're just as stubborn as I am."

Darry didn't deny it. He fiddled with the quilt and I hadn't seen him use that nervous habit in years. But I guess it wasn't every day your kid brother admitted to being a traitorous murderer.

"You know, when you were a kid you always told great stories," he commented.

"It wasn't a story."

"I know, but while you were talking, I was thrown back to when you were seven years old and trying to explain why you did something wrong. You were a pretty honest kid, even though it got you into more trouble. You were always concerned with what was fair."

"Thanks," I replied, looking back up at the ceiling.

"This is not fair."

Tell me about it. What in our lives was fair?

"Listen, Kiddo," Darry sighed and it was my turn to be thrown back to when I was seven and Darry would start off serious conversations like that.

"Just don't. I'm fine."

"What good does not talking do?" he countered and I knew the answer to that one.

"I'm done sharing."

"That's fine. I just want you to listen."

I glanced over at Darry as he hauled himself up on the bed so he was leaning back against the headboard. He looked down at me and I really was seven again.

"You don't deal with things. I've let you do that in the past because I didn't know how to deal with it either. Not this time. You did what you had to do to make sure that you came home," he stated sternly. "As far as I'm concerned, that's the end of discussion."

"I came back broken," I huffed. "It was all a big waste."

"You know what Dad used to say about broken things."

"Anything that can be broke can be fixed," I replied Dad's old saying and shook my head. "I'm not a car or an old shirt, Darry."

"No, but if you were a shirt, we wouldn't be in this situation."

I snorted and Darry smiled a little.

"You're not any more broken than before you left," he told me. "Just a lot guiltier for things you shouldn't have to feel guilty about."

"What? I can't decide when to feel guilty any more?" I asked, trying to make a joke out of it, but Darry looked serious when he shook his head.

"No."

"That's bordering on the insane, Darry," I pointed out and bit my lip at the look he sent me. "Which pretty much fits in with the entire conversation."

"Exactly. Now, you said you had work tonight. Join us for dinner and go have a good time tossing out drunks and flirting with that pretty waitress."

"Dottie?" I asked and he nodded. "Dottie is….Dottie."

"Soda says Dottie is very pretty."

I scowled. I did not need Darry of all people trying to set me up with another girl, not when he told my last one to move on and didn't have a girl himself.

"Then you ask her out," I told him and he smirked at me.

"And have Ponyboy die of shock?" Darry smirked.

I shook my head and hopped off of the bed. "Something tells me that if you started dating before Ponyboy, it would be more like dying of bruised pride than shock."

Darry gave me a funny look and I shrugged.

"He needs to beat you at something. I mean, come on, he's still holding it against you that you started shaving at thirteen."

Darry knocked my shoulder and grumbled something about dating while Pony was still in the cootie phase. I just smirked knowing that if Darry could rationalize what I'd done and didn't hate me, there was hope for everyone else letting it go, too. And even though I might not forget, at least someday I could maybe forgive myself.

* * *

Ok, yet another chapter I nearly deleted more than twice. Hopefully that explains a bit more. Hopefully I get a move on with this one, too. 

Any comments are welcome and flames accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!!!

Tens


	17. A Question of Passion

Well, I'm on a roll! Thanks to Zickachik for the awesome beta job!

Disclaimer: The usual.

On with the shoe!

Chapter 17

I took Darry's advice and went to work, but I skipped dinner. I knew from experience that if Soda didn't forgive you automatically, he was thinking on his feelings about something and Pony…Well, he was a lot like Soda, but I'd essentially told him I'd killed for him. I didn't think I could face either of them if they weren't sure they even wanted to look at me again. They needed time and I was more than willing to offer that at the very least. They'd tell Steve and Two-Bit because we were all a family in some weird way. Steve wouldn't like it, but he'd get it. Two-Bit…I guess he was another person for me to worry about making things right with.

I was grateful for Darry. He was all about survival after Mom and Dad died, even though he hadn't shown that particular mindset in a while, not since everything settled after Dallas and Johnny died. He knew I did things to survive I wasn't proud of and he wasn't going to hold it against me because I was still alive, but even with his support, I couldn't go to dinner. So I went to work. Work was safe. Mrs. M, Red, and Dottie didn't know anything.

I knew I'd made the right choice when I walked through the door and Dottie smiled at me. I returned it, not knowing why I was, and then she laughed.

"Please tell me you own more than two shirts," she chuckled.

"Once upon a time," I answered. "Most of them got nabbed by my little brother once I was dead."

"Well, I have no objections as long as you keep them washed. I won't work with someone who smells." She smiled.

"I'll keep that in mind," I replied.

"So," she said, her tone turning serious, "are you camping out on my couch again?"

"Unless you have some other pathetic Greaser on it already." I shrugged, moving to grab the waist apron I wore.

"You shouldn't call yourself pathetic," she chided.

"Even if I believe it?" I asked, scooping up my note pad.

"Especially if you believe it," she replied. "Now, put all that down and come join me for a burger before we open."

"What happened to your turkey kick?" I asked, putting down everything I had been busy picking up.

"Hey, once in a while, crap is acceptable," she informed me, tucking her arm in mine and pulling me towards the door I had just walked through. "Besides, it's not like I can get you to eat turkey."

I shrugged. Turkey was for special occasions. "Nope."

Dottie smiled at me again, lightly punching my arm. Yeah, it was definitely a good decision to come to work. And the rest of the night flowed like that. No drunks to toss, no kids to get mad at, no major spills, and Red even seemed to be in a good mood. Mrs. M did insist on cleaning something off my face like I was a little kid, but no one did more than smirk into their drinks. And by the time I was driving Dottie home, I was actually pretty content with myself as long as I didn't think back to the talk I'd had that afternoon.

I had to hand it to Dottie, though. She had one comfortable couch. The moment my head hit the cushions, I was asleep. It didn't last long. An hour later, I woke up panting and shaking, gulping back air like it was going out of style. It was the same dream and I wasn't surprised I'd had it. Suddenly there was a hand on my shoulder that caused me to almost jump out of my skin. I barely made out Dottie in the dark and relaxed a little.

"Sorry," I sighed. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I was still up," she assured me. "But don't be surprised if the neighbors start thumping on the walls."

I groaned, shifting so I was sitting up. The last thing I wanted to do was have a screaming nightmare on Dottie's couch. I looked over at where she wasn't quite solid in the dark, just another shadow. But her hand was still on my shoulder, steadying me. She shouldn't have.

"Sorry," I said again.

"Do you think you meant to have a nightmare on purpose?" she asked.

"No, but I just…" I shrugged.

"Then there is no need to apologize," she soothed, rubbing my shoulder a little. "Did something happen today?"

"Did something have to happen?" I challenged.

"Well, you were off all night," she pointed out. "Almost like you were happy for a slow night. Then you came home and screamed on my couch."

"Nothing happened," I insisted, but it obviously wasn't as firm as I wanted it to be.

"Talk to me, Pup."

I didn't say anything of a few minutes, but I did shift my legs over so that Dottie could join me on the couch. She slung an arm around my shoulders and I leaned into the touch. She ran her hand through my hair and I leaned my head on her shoulder. She didn't press me and I decided I should answer her. I owed her that much.

"I told my brothers about the war today. I was a traitor, you know," I said as casually as I could manage.

"I doubt that. No one who went over there was a traitor," she said firmly.

"I killed my own men. I shot people I knew I shouldn't have."

"Willingly?" she asked and I shook my head after a long moment of consideration. "There you go. You're only a traitor if you believe that what you're doing will hurt your country and put you personally ahead, but you want to do it anyway."

"That sounds about right," I told her.

"I don't believe you were a traitor. You're far too guilty to have gotten anything out of that war," she said. "Not that I think any part of that war was right. The whole thing is just ridiculous. So anything wrong you did is automatically cancelled out."

"Now you're just trying to make me feel better," I accused.

"Is it working?" she asked and I sighed a little. "I honestly think you're a good person. That's all that matters, especially here."

I didn't say anything to that. I honestly didn't agree with her, but she had made me feel a little better because she had so much faith in me.

"So, how'd your brothers take it?" she asked and I sighed.

"Pony was pretty upset with me before I even started. Soda looked hurt. They'll get over that once it sinks in that what I did over there was really wrong. I'll be lucky if they ever want to speak to me again."

"You, my friend, have definite self-worth issues. They're your brothers and they love you. They'll come around," she assured me.

"And if they don't?" I asked, feeling miserable.

"Then you can have a couple of my brothers," she said easily.

I didn't answer her attempt at humor. I honestly didn't know what I would do about Pony and Soda if they weren't going to talk to me ever again. Even when we'd had bad fights in the past, they had always eventually taken me back. But this…if there was ever a final straw, this was it.

"They will come around," Dottie said sternly. "Something tells me you make the most waves in your family. They're still with you so far."

"Yeah, I've done some dumb things," I agreed. "I was constantly getting hauled in as a kid, fought with my folks the night they died, and then I laughed through their funeral. I still don't know why I did that."

"God, you're a psychologist's dream," she commented dryly. "Do you know what you need?"

"No more Tequila," I groaned.

"I was going to say ice cream," she chuckled. "You drank all that foul stuff."

"The whole bottle on my own?" I asked.

"Yep. I'm a Bourbon girl." She nodded.

It was my turn to smile. That smile turned into a yawn. God, I was tired.

Then I blinked and it was morning. Sun was peeking around the drapes and there was an alarm going off down the hall. I blinked a few more times, knowing I wasn't going to get back to sleep again. I tried to sit up and sighed to myself. Dottie still had her arms wrapped around me, but the hold was much tighter than it had been when she was awake. She had a leg tossed over mine and she was using the top of my head as a pillow, which was only fair since I was using her chest. But I couldn't move. The alarm trilled again and she curled around me a little more. If there was only thing I had learned about Dottie, it was that she was not a morning person in the slightest. She had to get up, though. She had school.

"C'mon, Dot. Alarm went off," I yawned.

"I don't want to go to school today," she groaned.

"You'll be mad at me later if I keep you here," I pointed out.

"No. I would love you for it," she sighed.

"Not when you remember that writing thing is tonight," I reminded her, detangling myself from her grasp. "I'll make coffee."

After Dottie was gone, I was bored. It wasn't usually a problem for me, but I was feeling energized after a full night's sleep. Sitting around and watching TV was not going to cut it today. So I decided to head to the stables. I hadn't been by in a while because of the bar and trying to deal with the changes in my life. So when I walked in, Goblin gave me a dirty look and decided to ignore me. That beat the usual look he gave me, like I was below him. His ears did perk when I walked right past him, though. Not only was the horse psychotic, but it was jealous as hell. I hadn't even leaned against the stall of another horse during rodeo season in case he considered it treachery and decided to punish me for it. That meant ignoring the horse I liked best.

I know I'd probably thought it more than was necessary, but Goblin was Dallas' horse. They were two of a kind and the only reason that horse let me near him was because Dallas was gone and he was looking for some attention. Back when I was jockeying for the Slash J on a more regular basis, I'd had a horse I considered mine, just like Dallas considered Goblin his. That horse was called Big John. It was a pretty good description of him, but I still called him Dunn.

He already had his big brown face hanging over the door when I walked down to the other end of the barn. He was a powerful bay horse who wasn't as compact as the racers he was stabled with. Buck kept him around for rodeo season. I'd always thought that was funny. He was like a big puppy until you itched his belly.

I stepped close and let him sniff me. When he went for my pockets, I swatted his nose away and he bobbed his chin up so he could nudge me properly.

"Yeah, I missed you too," I assured him. "But you'll have to earn what I have in my pockets for you."

He nudged me again and I figured that was an agreement. It took me ten minutes to figure out where Jeff had hidden his gear. By the time I had him ready for a ride, he'd managed to clean me out of carrots. Even though he was a big horse, he moved with much more grace than Goblin. He was a good-looking horse – a dark bay with a black mane, tail, tipped ears, nose, and socks. If you took into account his more-than-friendly disposition, it was surprising he wasn't a pet somewhere. He always managed to help me feel as relaxed and calm as he was. Today was no different. By the time he felt tired between my knees, I was feeling lighter than I had in a long time. I'd had him out in Buck's back forty all afternoon, but it was getting cold when the sun was down, and that wasn't even just my warped body temperature regulation talking. When I brought it in, Jeff was leaning on the fence looking pleased.

"You know, no one rides Johnny anymore," Jeff commented when I was in close.

"I don't see why," I replied, hopping down. "He's a big baby."

"Not when you get him bucking." Jeff smirked. "This going to become a trend? Buck thinks we should keep paying you when you do the work."

"We'll see; I'm down at the Slipper now."

"That an invite?" Jeff grinned.

"Nope. I have to keep the place looking respectable," I told him.

Jeff laughed and I felt pleased with myself. It was amazing what actually sleeping through the night could do for your overall state of mind. Naturally, I was not going home to ruin it. Instead, I did some shopping at the market and went to Dottie's to wash off the smell of horse. Then, deciding that cooking was the least I could do in return for Dottie's hospitality, I managed to throw some chicken and pasta together. Then, if the mood hit me, I planned to clean the place later. Not that Dottie didn't keep it clean, but you could tell she hadn't washed walls or scrubbed out the cupboards for a while.

It wasn't until six that Dottie finally came in the door. She didn't look up until all her books were scattered on the coffee table and she had let out a long sigh.

"You're cooking?" she asked.

"Yep." I nodded.

"Wow. That's surprising."

"I also clean," I added.

"Man, you're going to make some career woman a great catch someday," she teased.

"How was your writing thing?" I asked and she sighed.

One night a week, Dottie went to the high school and ran an after-school writing group as part of her volunteer hours for her degree. As far as I knew, she liked it.

"I honestly love working with these high school kids, but sometimes it can be exasperating. And you want to know the sad part? I can remember being most of those kids." She sat at the kitchen table and began listing them off on her fingers. "Corey being bummed over his girl, Susan being terribly shy, James being over the moon because he was accepted down in Houston…You wouldn't believe how all that reflects in their writing. It's amazing."

"It's great that you enjoy doing something like that," I pointed out, dishing up some supper.

"It's my passion," she replied. "Do you have a passion?"

"I couldn't even tell you how to define passion, let alone have one myself." I shrugged.

"Here, maybe this can help," she said fishing around in her bag. "The assignment last week was to write about passions."

She handed me one and I wanted to laugh. "How long have you known that you're my brother's teacher?"

"Writing Mentor," she corrected. "They've taught me more than I've taught them. As for knowing, I figured it out through his writing a few weeks ago. You play a big role in his life, you know."

"Isn't this like betraying some confidence between the two of you?" I asked, reading anyway as Dottie shook her head.

"No. Ponyboy wouldn't be happy, but you should see at least something about how you influence him."

I wasn't listening by then. I was reading.

"…_Passion is a feeling that is given over to actions that strongly define us. It is not hard for others to see what one's passion is, where it can be for individuals. My eldest brother, for example, would say his passion is hard work because he does so much of it, but everyone else can see it's our family he's most passionate about. My brother, Soda, would say he has a passion for cars or horses because he loves them. I would say his passion is living life to the fullest and dragging his best friend Steve along with him. My other brother would probably say arguing – _

I snorted there.

" – _But I would say his passion is in his hands."_

"In my hands?" I repeated, wondering what he meant by that.

"I asked him about that. He told me that you like to draw. It was the only thing he remembered you really liking since you apparently don't like anything anymore." Dottie shrugged, halfway through her dinner already.

"I used to draw all the time. And I used to sit down with my dad and put broken clocks and stuff back together," I offered. "But that was a long time ago."

"Why'd you stop?" she asked and I shrugged.

"My folks died and it was time to grow up."

"So, what is your passion?" she asked and I frowned.

"If I didn't know before, I'm even more confused now," I told her. "Probably arguing."

Dottie laughed and I smirked.

"So, does he write about this stuff a lot?" I chanced.

"You mean, does he write about _you_ a lot?" she corrected.

"Yeah."

"Recently, quite a lot. It's obvious that he's worried about you," she explained. "I didn't know what to make of him tonight."

I sighed. Yeah, I guess the pair of us made life complicated for everyone these days.

"On the plus side, he's thinking about what you said," she told me, grabbing my hand across the table. "That's a lot better than how he was before."

I nodded, not willing to comment. I wished that for one day, the world would give us a break but since that didn't seem likely, I ate my dinner and considered this whole passion thing. Something told me I wasn't going to figure it out anytime soon.

* * *

Yeah...Just a filler chapter. Push the next chapter button in a couple minutes and you'll see what I mean.

Any comments at all are welcome and flames accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!!

Tens & Zickachik


	18. A Day For Surprises

Ok, an action chapter! Always fun for me. Thankies again to Zickachik who is amazing!

Disclaimer: The usual.

On with the show!

Chapter 18

The next morning, I woke up to knocking on the door. I decided to answer it before it woke Dottie up, even though I didn't technically live here. I barely had the door open when I had the sudden urge to close it and go hide. But I didn't. I stood there and waited for the well-deserved punch or curse to come my way.

"You stupid idiot," Soda accused and I flinched. The look of disappointment in his eyes and the tone of his words was worse than any hit.

A moment later, I thought Soda was going to hit me, too, and shut my eyes tightly. But he didn't hit me. I was suddenly wrapped in a tight hug.

"You stupid idiot," he repeated that…endearment? "How could you just take off like that? You probably thought the worst of us."

I was standing there, stiff in his hold, my mouth probably open uselessly since I had nothing to say coherently. Soda pulled away a bit and gave me a hurt look.

"You're a moron if you can think that we would turn you out for something you did half way around the world," he said sternly. "If you had stuck around for dinner, I would have told you that."

I gaped at Soda and let him pull me into another tight hug. "Why'd it take you two days then?"

Soda sighed and I snapped my mouth shut, wondering why I'd asked. He was here now.

"I spent all morning yesterday running around looking for you. I had to go to work in the afternoon and then I talked with Steve and…I get it now," he offered. "I'm just glad I found you this morning or I was going to go ask your cop friend to help me out."

I didn't say anything. We just hugged each other like a couple of chicks for a few minutes until Soda finally pulled away.

"Are you going to come home or start paying rent?" Soda asked me with a small smile that dimmed as I shook my head.

Something told me Pony was going to need more time on this one. He didn't have a Steve to spell it out for him and he and I weren't on good terms for a while before all this. If he needed time, I could give it to him.

"I don't know, Soda. I'm not sure I can handle home right now."

"Pony'll come around," Soda assured me.

"It's not just him. Did you know Darry told me I wasn't allowed to decide when I could be guilty anymore?"

Dottie laughed behind me and I turned to glare at her. It wasn't funny.

"I like this Darry," she commented. "Invite your brother in and close the door."

"Had breakfast yet, Sodapop?" I asked, nodding him in.

"No. I had three more places to check after this one," he replied.

"We'll cook you something up," I offered.

"What'll you have?" Dottie asked when we both came in to the kitchen.

"Sodapop likes his eggs scrambled with jelly," I told Dottie, gesturing Soda to a seat.

"Well, I have to admit, that sounds more appealing than smothering your food in Salsa," she commented with a smirk.

"Thanks, Dot," I replied sarcastically.

"So, this must be Soda?" Dottie surmised. "I'm Dottie Richards."

"Pleased to meet you," Soda replied.

"What? Pepsi hasn't been gossiping about me?" Dottie asked with a smirk.

"Not a peep." Soda shook his head.

"We'll have to correct that," she replied with her own headshake.

"I thought you two had met?" I asked, looking over at Soda suspiciously and he shook his head.

"I only know what Two-Bit told me."

"Two-Bit?" Dottie asked with an eye roll. "In that case, disregard everything he told you."

"He did say you were very pretty," Soda offered.

"He's starting to redeem himself," Dottie jested, earning a smile from Soda.

I just shook my head as the pair of them continued on talking like that. They had an easy manner around each other after just minutes. I often envied Soda for that. I just couldn't trust people.

"So, wearing that shirt as a fashion statement?" Dottie finally asked once we were eating.

"No, I have to get to work today," Soda told her, glancing at me. "This was my only free time to find my idiot brother."

"Well, you found him," Dottie agreed with a smirk. "The DX, though…that sounds like a great job. Sun all day, and I hear you go shirtless when it's really hot out."

Soda chuckled while I gaped at Dottie, not at all surprised that she would bring it up after the way her friends had gossiped.

"I still have to get Pepsi shirtless, but he only wears two or three shirts as it is. I would have to ruin one," Dottie said with a smile and Soda smiled back.

"I like her." Soda beamed.

I shrugged in response, eating my breakfast.

"Shit!" Dottie cursed, causing both Soda and I to look up. "I have to get to school."

I glanced at the clock and nodded, going back to my breakfast, as Dottie jumped up to go flutter around like a hummingbird.

"It was nice to meet you, Soda," she offered, coming back into the kitchen fully dressed. "I will see you at work, Pepsi. Please do the dishes for me?"

I nodded.

"Bye," Soda offered.

Dottie paused in the doorway to look at us and smirked. I hoped she wasn't about to comment on how we were bonding or something.

"Man, if Darry is as good looking as the rest of you, no girl in Tulsa stands a chance," she stated.

I frowned and Soda smiled politely until she'd left the apartment.

"Sorry," I offered. "She's usually a lot less girly."

"Well, at least she's nice. She's also funny, sarcastic and feeds you, so she can't be all that bad," Soda pointed out.

"You should see her at the bar. She really manages to hold her own."

"Then remind me never to piss her off," Soda said with a smirk.

"Need a ride to work?" I asked, glancing at the clock again.

"Yeah, that would be helpful," Soda agreed. "You're welcome to stick around. Steve even said so."

"Nah. Tell him thanks, but I've been neglecting Dunn lately," I told him and he smiled a little.

"Are you going to come home tomorrow at least?" he asked and I frowned.

"I don't know. We'll see, I suppose. If not, you know where to find me." I shrugged.

"I'd like it if you would," Soda said, giving me those puppy dog eyes that worked on everyone. I'd never mastered them.

"Anyone ever tell you that look is cheating?" I asked.

"Nope." Soda smirked, ruining the eyes completely. "I'll see you tomorrow."

I sighed. He was one confident bastard. I wish I felt that way.

"C'mon, let's get you to work, Soda."

The rest of the day skipped by once I had dropped off Soda. It skipped so fast that I was running late when I walked in the back entrance to the bar. That didn't seem to matter much since the place was uncharacteristically dark. The front doors weren't open and the lights were off. I sighed, figuring this was my lucky day as I flipped on the lights and went to open the front doors and flip the sign. I turned to go get my things from the backroom and nearly jumped out of my skin.

"Surprise!"

I backed up against the doors I had just unlocked and blinked. Dottie, Mrs. M., Red and Two-Bit were standing in the dark with a cake. I just gaped and tried to figure out what was going on.

"What's this?" I asked, confused.

"Your birthday party, Shug," Mrs. M. answered.

"Birthday?" I asked, even more confused.

"Tomorrow, actually," Two-Bit put in.

"But you're not working, so we planned for tonight." Dottie finished. "Were you surprised?"

"Yeah," I said slowly. It couldn't be October 8th already. Was it? "It's my birthday?"

"You forgot your own birthday?" Dottie asked, amused.

"He does it every year. We bet on how long it takes His-Obliviousness to figure it out," Two-Bit chuckled.

Well, that explained Soda…

"I forgot Soda's birthday," I groaned.

"You always do," Two-Bit pointed out.

"I meant to remember it if I came back from Nam," I explained. "I couldn't even do that right, though."

"Oh honey," Mrs. M, Soothed. "You'll know tomorrow. That'll mean something, but tonight is a party!"

"She's right. Worry tomorrow," Red suggested, moving to pour a round of drinks.

"Yeah," I sighed in agreement. There was always tomorrow.

"Now, we only have a few minutes to celebrate, so we'd best get to it," Mrs. M suggested. "You really should know better than to be late to your own surprise party."

"Sorry," I offered. "I got held up out at the Slash J. And I smell like horse still."

"No one will care what you smell like as long as you keep slinging drinks," Red stated, holding out a shot for me. "Happy Birthday, Pup."

I nodded my thanks and downed the Whiskey. Mrs. M. passed out the cake then and we were just cleaning up as the usual patrons showed up. That's when everyone did what I wanted them to do and ignored the fact it was my birthday or pre-birthday. But I couldn't. I had nothing to give to Soda. Well, I could actually show up for it, but that wasn't much of a present. Soda…he had given me a great present – he'd forgiven me. I supposed I would have to just do the best I could.

"Why the long face?" Dottie asked, leaning up on the bar, later that night.

"I have nothing for Soda," I told her.

"Two-Bit says you normally forget anyways," she offered.

"I always had something put away, though. A "just in case". I don't even have that."

"Draw him a picture," Two-Bit suggested, leaning up beside Dottie.

"That sounds like something one of my nephews would do," Dottie pointed out, the answer sounding staged.

"You haven't seen this kid draw," Two-Bit commented. "He used to be amazing."

"Used to be?" Dottie asked.

"The idiot gave it up." Two-Bit thumbed at me.

"Why did you do that?" Dottie asked. "More growing up?"

I nodded. It was really punishment. I enjoyed it, but after Mom and Dad died, it just didn't seem like something I could do without guilt.

"Two-Bit thinks you were good!" Dottie repeated his earlier words.

"So he said." I shrugged again.

"I want to see you draw something. Stay here!" Dottie dashed off and I glared at Two-Bit.

"Don't glare at me, I just told the truth," he defended.

"Now she wants to see me draw something," I snapped.

"Draw something then." He shrugged.

"It's been at least 5 years," I pointed out.

"So? It'll be like riding a bike or something." Two-Bit waved it off.

Before I could answer, Dottie was back with a pad of paper and a pencil. She presented them to me and waited patiently. I sighed, drawing a stick figure and passing it back to her.

"Wow. I feel very let down," she commented.

"Come on, Pepsi-pop. Put some effort in for the little lady," Two-Bit ordered.

"Please?" Dottie asked, trying for Soda's puppy dog eyes. It didn't work, but the way she bit her lip sent me over the edge.

"Fine," I snapped, grabbing the pad.

I flipped to a clean sheet of paper and stared at it for a moment, letting the watermarks on the paper pick what was going to be drawn. I finally settled on Dunn, since I knew every line by heart. So I started drawing while Dottie handled the drinks and had a conversation with Two-Bit. Finally I blew over the drawing and passed the paper to Dottie.

"Oh, Pepsi…"

"It's been years since I bothered," I told her with a shrug. "But I doubt I could forget how to draw that damn horse."

"It's wonderful!" she exclaimed. "The you-could-probably-sell-it type of good."

I shrugged. "You can keep it."

"I will," she said sounding serious. "Sign it."

"Why?" I asked, giving her a suspicious look.

"It might be worth something some day." She shrugged.

I sighed, but did it anyway. I doubted it would be worth anything unless she decided to burn it for warmth. She smiled, nonetheless, and handed it over to Two-Bit.

"He used to be better," Two-Bit commented seriously. "But better than I could do."

"I can see how this was your passion," Dottie exclaimed happily.

I didn't even shrug. I just poured a beer and accepted the money across the bar. Who needed a passion?

"I'm sure Soda would love a picture," Dottie said, hand on my arm, breath ghosting over my ear.

"Soda is a big enough girl to appreciate it," I finally answered with a nod and Dottie chuckled, moving down the bar to collect empty mugs and glasses.

It had felt good to indulge for a little while and I was sure that coming up with something would be more work, but worth it. The question was, what the hell was I going to draw Soda?

* * *

Yeah, who can resist a little brother bonding?

Any comments at all are welcome and flames accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!!

Tens & Zickachik


	19. Sometimes, I Get It Right

Well, I'm home! And to celebrate 8 months in hell (aka university) a post! Special thanks, as always, to the wonderful Zickachik73 who not only makes things make sense, but also contributes so much to the thinking process.

Disclaimer: The usual.

The next morning I woke up in Soda's old room to the sound of the bedroom door closing – because, let's face it; I was never going to be allowed back in my own room again. I groaned to myself. That was about the fourth time Soda had opened it to see if I was up yet or not. I had to wonder if this was our fifth birthday or twentieth. Soda had always found the day to be exciting while I always felt…I don't know…embarrassed by it. It was a strange feeling, because it was my birthday, too, but it just seemed like it was intruding on Soda's day. That was probably why I never remembered our birthday. Who wanted to remember an event they'd just rather disappear into the background for?

The door opened again and I sighed loudly. "Soda…"

"Are you awake?" he asked and I turned my head so I could glance in his direction.

"Not really. We didn't close until two," I replied, not mentioning it was closer to four when I did get to sleep.

"Oh."

I sighed, hearing how let down Soda sounded in one word. "Come flop down, Soda."

He didn't waste any time asking questions, just flopping down on the double bed beside me. The thing was, Soda fidgeted enough so the bed rocked. Eventually I gave up on the hope for sleep.

"Darry won't let you eat until I get up, huh?"

Soda chuckled. "Not a bite. Presents have to wait, too."

"That explains your jack-in-the-box impersonation," I muttered, scratching at the stubble on my cheek.

"Get up, then," he suggested.

"Not likely," I replied.

"Thanks for coming home. I'm glad you remembered."

"I was reminded," I confessed.

"I know. Thanks anyways, though," he replied.

I shrugged, scooting to the edge of the bed and reaching under it.

Last night when I came in, I'd snuck into the closet in my old room and helped myself to the art supplies I'd left in there. I'd sat down and drew something for Soda. I'd slid it under the bed for safe keeping. I just hoped Soda wouldn't get the wrong idea about it. Sometimes I just got ideas that seemed like good ones at the time, but ultimately turned out to be terrible.

I pulled it out anyways, handing it to Soda before I changed my mind on giving it to him.

"What's this?" he asked, grabbing it.

"You know what it is." I closed my eyes, waiting for Soda to blow up at me. This whole picture thing was a horrible idea.

"I remember this," Soda said softly. "We were what, seven?"

"Five, but close enough." I nodded.

I glanced at where Soda was tracing the paper and sighed. It was a dumb idea. It had taken me hours to figure out what I was going to draw for Soda. I'd finally settled on a memory from when we were five, going on six. There was a duck that wouldn't leave the fountain over at the park. Soda was nuts about it. So Mom used to take us all down to the park every day. It was the summer, so I made it my goal to annoy Darry while Soda kept Mom tangled up with the duck. Pony was about two or three and was more concerned with scratching the rocks on the cement beside the fountain, but he always was a deep kid. Soda and I would have had those rocks in our mouths or throwing them at each other at that age. But I always remembered how Soda liked that duck. So I drew him and the duck in the fountain…and Mom. That was what I was worried about.

It looked like I was right. Soda was just sitting there, stroking the picture around where Mom's face was. I was sure he was going to smudge it all to hell, but it was his present and I could fix it later. If he still wanted it. Like I said…king of stupid ideas.

"I…thanks, Pepsi," Soda finally said, looking over at me with a watery grin. "You didn't have to do that. I know you don't like birthdays and all…"

"But you do," I pointed out, climbing out of bed and rubbing a hand through my hair. "I'm gonna take a shower. Feel free to throw it out if you don't like it."

Soda got up and set it down on the bed carefully before giving me a serious look.

"Quit putting yourself down, ok?" he asked, setting a hand on my shoulder. "Not today."

I didn't bother saying anything. I just shrugged and tossed my shirt off before walking into the hallway. There was a stack of clean towels on the washer, so I grabbed one off the top and moved down the hall towards the bathroom. The floor was soaked from Soda and Pony's bathroom time, but that was typical. Darry was the only one who managed to leave the bathroom in the same condition he entered it in. Me? I was as bad as the others, but at least I picked up my wet towels. I growled a little and kicked the wet towel into a puddle on the floor. At least my usual routine was typical so far, minus Soda, but with Soda, randomness was typical. Already I had the feeling I was going to do far too much thinking today.

When I finally exited the shower, I really wasn't all that surprised Soda was waiting for me. I wanted to comment on how he seemed to be stalking me, but I didn't get the chance as he pulled me down the hall.

"I literally think Pony is going to chew Two-Bit's arm off," he explained and I smirked. Yeah, that sounded like my kid brother when he was hungry.

"And I can't pull on pants first?" I asked and Soda smirked, tugging me into the kitchen.

"Look, he's here. We can eat," Soda pointed out.

Steve, Two-Bit, Darry and Pony were all in the kitchen, looking over at Soda and I.

"About damn time, princess," Steve jibed and I jutted my chin at him. He'd get his later.

"I think princesses know how to put on clothes," Two-Bit joked. "Twenty years and this one is still in his birthday suit."

"I'm going to go put pants on. Let Soda open presents and Ponyboy eat," I suggested, shoving Soda's hand off my shoulder so I could do just that.

"You heard the man," Two-Bit yelped. "Breakfast and presents."

I shook my head and went back down the hall to grab clean clothes off the dryer. By the time I was dressed, I could smell food being cooked, so I assumed there was some power to what I said or the hungry looks I knew the four of them could throw at Darry. I didn't even know where this "not eating on birthdays until everyone was up" bit came from. Not that I normally remembered my birthday, but that wasn't the point. I'd already forgotten what the point was, so I walked into the kitchen and flopped down between Two-Bit's and Darry's still-empty chair.

I sighed, about to get up again when a cup of coffee was set down in front of me. I nodded my thanks to Darry and took a long drink of the scalding liquid, groaning at how it burned all the way down, waking me up better than the shower had. He chuckled a little, patting my shoulder.

"Happy Birthday."

"Thanks," I answered.

I glanced over at where Soda was eating cake with a stack of new clothes and a football along with some magazines in front of him. He smiled at me and I rolled my eyes at the dark chocolate icing on his teeth. It was insane how easily Sodapop could be pleased. He motioned to his plate and I nodded, stealing a chunk of cake with my fingers.

"Fork, Pepsi. Soda, you eat your breakfast," Darry directed from the stove.

I shrugged, drinking more coffee until the cup was empty. By that time, there were eggs in front of all of us with cake. Soda was laughing at something Two-Bit was saying and Steve was busy pointing out something in one of the new magazines to Pony. That was another change I hadn't really gotten used to. They kind of got along. Not all the time and they didn't do much together, but they got along enough to do small things like that.

"Come on! You have to open gifts!"

I glanced over at Soda who was nudging me under the table with his foot.

"I also have breakfast." I motioned to my salsa smothered eggs with my fork.

"Come on. Soda's dying to get that football out there," Steve pointed out. "If we have to wait on you to do one thing at a time, we won't get outside before noon."

I ignored him, plopping another bit of egg into my mouth and chewing thoughtfully.

"Now you're just trying to piss Steve off," Darry scolded, reaching under the table for a brown paper bag – his idea of wrapping.

I sighed, grabbing it, pleased it was full of clothes. When I was younger, it was a big disappointment to get clothes as a present, but now that I had so few items of clothing, it was a big thing. I pulled out three t-shirts, some socks and a stack of new underwear. I pulled on one of the shirts, testing the give of the fabric before playing with the waist of one of the pairs of underwear. It was good quality, as long as I didn't get into too much trouble. I folded them back up and nodded to my brothers in thanks.

"Oh, now that is just sad," Two-Bit declared. "Only my mother does that to clothes and that is right before she sighs and gives them to me."

"You ever only own two sets of shirts, maybe underwear and socks if you're lucky enough to have them?" I asked and he shook his head.

"In the jungle?" Steve put in. "Believe me, you appreciate clothes after that."

"And showers," I added.

"And bread and women and everything else under the sun." Two-Bit waved it off. "Here, me and Stevie got you these."

Steve tossed a couple nudie mags in front of me and Two-Bit slid a new deck of cards across the table at me.

"Just what every growing boy needs…" I drawled. "I'm sure they'll be put to good use. Thanks."

"Here," Soda said handing me a bottle opener with a bow on it. "We thought you could use it at work."

I glanced over at where Ponyboy was avoiding my eyes and figured Soda had done most of the figuring on his own while Darry had the clothes covered.

"Thanks, I'm sure I will," I told him.

"Now, if His Obliviousness is done, we can go play some ball!" Two-Bit yelped, tugging Soda up out of his seat with him.

The pair of them were out the back door a minute later, hollering for the rest of us to hurry up. Steve shook his head and picked up the football, twirling it in his hands.

"Won't be much of a game without this," he pointed out.

"Knowing those two…" I shrugged, trailing off.

Steve was out a moment later with Pony trailing after him. Darry took another sip of his coffee, looking over the rim of his cup at me. I looked back at him, wondering what the hell he was thinking.

"You know, I don't think Soda would have made it through today if you hadn't come back."

"I almost didn't," I said with a shrug. "Mrs. M and Dottie reminded me last night."

"I didn't mean coming home from your girl's place."

I just looked at my brother for a moment. I hated it when he just said things like that. I knew it, he knew it, and usually we never said anything about it either way. But I was glad I was home, too. I was glad I was alive. I don't think I could have survived another birthday over in Nam, either. So I smiled at him and nodded.

"She's not my girl."

Darry smiled back, looking at me like I was the craziest thing he'd ever seen.

"Finish your breakfast," he suggested. "We have a new football to break in."

I smirked, figuring that sounded like a good plan.

The football game lasted for hours until Two-Bit complained he was hungry and Steve was wincing from when both Soda and Pony had landed on him at the same time. So we called it a game, not even knowing who won because it was such a free for all. Darry led the way back home, Soda bouncing with the football, Pony smirking, and Two-Bit teasing Steve as we walked along. I had to admit, I had enjoyed myself. It wasn't often I did these days, so I savored it.

When we got back to the house, Soda flopped down on the floor beside Steve and chuckled for now reason for a minute. He finally smiled and shook his head, tossing the ball to where Two-Bit was sitting on the couch.

"We broke that one in well," he commented and Steve grunted in agreement.

"Hey, why don't we break in Pepsi-pop's present too," Two-Bit suggested.

"What? You want a beer?" I asked, thinking of the bottle opener.

"No, the cards," Steve told me.

I shrugged, going to get the deck. They wanted a poker game, I'd give them one.

"Poker?" Darry asked from where he was pulling things from the fridge for dinner.

"Yeah. Wanna play?" I asked.

Pony glanced up from where he was chopping vegetables and gave me an odd look. "Darry doesn't play poker."

"And I'm a flying monkey," I snorted. "I never had an allowance when I was twelve because I was dumb enough to play with Darry."

Pony frowned at our brother and Darry shrugged like it was nothing. Sometimes it killed me when I thought about how much more I knew about Darry just because we shared a room growing up.

"I'm going to cook dinner. You go have fun." Darry shook his head, turning back to the stove.

I shrugged again, leaving the room. Steve easily caught the deck when I threw it and I flopped down between Soda and Two-Bit.

"You gonna play?" Steve asked and I nodded.

"It's my deck."

Soda smirked and hollered to see if Pony wanted to play, too. We got a negative noise in return, so Steve dealt for four. I glanced at my two pair, wiling to work with it until it was time to cheat. And cheat I did. Gabe and I had scammed our way through basic and later Nam. He'd taught me how to count cards, deal from the bottom of the deck, read other players, and spot other cheats. Soda was obvious. I think he thought it was fun getting caught every time. Steve laughed, but seemed to enjoy when the game was serious, too. Two-Bit kept joking to distract everyone so he could lift their money. Not that it worked.

By the end of the game, both Two-Bit and Soda had busted out and Steve was folding to keep what he had left.

"Where the hell did you learn to play like that?" Soda asked, ruffling my hair.

"Nam," I replied, shuffling the deck in a totally useless, but impressive flourish. "Poker is the name of the game over there.

"Ah. Next time we'll bet cigarettes and make gun noises while we play then," Two-Bit teased.

"No one would have taught you over there," Steve pointed out.

"Sure, they would," I replied.

"A patsy is better than a card sharp," he countered.

"You never had the pleasure of meeting my drinking buddy." I shrugged. "You can only drink if you have money. You don't have money when you're a patsy."

I stood then, shoving my winnings in my pockets and leaving what wouldn't fit so they could divvy it up. I headed into the kitchen to find it was just Darry. He was cooking chili from the looks of it. It was just the canned stuff with cut up veggies and extra tomato paste, but it always tasted great. Dallas and I always smothered it in hot sauce. Soda covered his in sprinkles while Darry loaded his with pepper and Pony grated cheese on his. I think Steve was the only one who ever eat it just the way Darry cooked it, seeing as how both Two-Bit and Johnny often picked the veggies out.

"Smells good," I commented, running the tap for a glass of water.

"I'll be ready in a few minutes," Darry replied, stirring it.

"Noted." I nodded, glancing out the back window as I drank my water.

I blinked in surprise at what I saw back there. I wondered if this was going to be the killing point of my day…

"I'll be right back. Call me when it's done."

Darry nodded and I let myself out the backdoor. Sitting on our picnic table was none other than Lily Dawson. She glanced at me with a small smile I couldn't return.

"Happy Birthday. If you remembered, that is."

"Thanks. What're you doing here?"

"I've been doing a lot of thinking lately," she replied. "About us."

"There is no us," I told her. "We ended a long time ago."

"But there could be."

I sighed, sitting down on the table beside her. A month and a half ago that was all I wanted to hear. Now? I wasn't so sure.

"Your Soc that bad?" I asked.

"He doesn't matter. We could run off together and put this place behind us forever. No more Greasers, Socs, family…" she trailed off, staring at me intently. "You always wanted that. We should do it."

"Yeah, two years ago." A lot had changed since then.

"Let's go now!" She smiled and I watched as it faded.

I could only stare at her. She'd made me miserable and she just expected me to go back to her with open arms? How long would we last the second time around? How could we when I knew I was just being used?

"That's not what I want now," I told her. "I have a job, friends, and my family. I need them."

The last statement was more truth than I wanted to acknowledge.

"I could be that for you! You can always make more friends if you need to!"

"No. You can't and I won't."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" She asked, a familiar question in my life. "You know this is your only chance to be happy!"

"No. It's your only chance," I replied. "And there's nothing wrong with me. I'm finally figuring myself out. I won't be used ever again, not even by you."

"I'm not!" She looked indignant at the suggestion.

"Yes, you are. You're using me as an escape instead of telling your damn Soc it's over."

"Pepsi…" She was tearing up now.

"I want you to leave, Lil. Don't come back."

And with that, I walked back into the house. Darry wasn't at the stove, for which I was grateful. I didn't need his sympathy. I didn't want to feel like I had anything to feel bad about. So I made an executive decision, one I was sure Darry would have approved of, and didn't let myself feel bad or guilty. I had nothing to feel guilty over. I was done being used and it was my birthday. I wasn't going to let anything ruin Soda's day. My day. So I went into the living room where my family was talking and enjoying themselves. I flopped down on the couch, leaning against Soda and putting my feet in Two-Bit's lap. Soda threw an arm around my shoulders and gave me an odd look.

"You ok?" he asked and I nodded, pulling my feet away from where Two-Bit was trying to tickle them and laid my head on Soda's shoulder.

"Yeah, I think I am."

* * *

Well, another one bites the dust, as they say. I'm actually not all that sure how long this story will be. So until then, writing is a good plan on my end.

Any comments at all are welciome and flames accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!!

Tens & Zickachik


	20. Take What You Can Get

Well, this chapter is mostly based on a true story I have chosen to exclude from the author's note here. Just know one of these beds does actually exist and it was made in like 1960 something. Special thanks to Zickachik who was even more excited for this than I was.

Disclaimer: The Usual.

Chapter 20

It was later that week when there was a knock on my door. I didn't bother to glance up from where I was sewing my old shirts. I know, I just got new ones for our birthday, but the old ones were still good, if a little in need of mending.

"Yeah?" I asked, not used to anyone knocking.

"You planning on coming out anytime soon, Peps?" Darry asked and I shrugged.

"I've been pretty busy."

"I can see that. Take a break?"

I sighed, setting the mending aside and waited for whatever Darry wanted to talk about. I knew him well enough by now to tell that he had something on his mind. I usually didn't like the outcome when he got this way, but we were going to talk anyways.

"Listen," he started and I wondered what he thought I was doing. "When you left, Pony had the bed to himself."

Well, I wasn't expecting that start for a conversation. Darry was always the odd one in the family, though.

"Yeah, and?" I asked.

"Even before that, you pretty much clung to your side of the bed." Darry shrugged, looking like he was trying to stall his point. "And Sodapop cuddles."

"Darry," I sighed.

"I'm getting rid of the big bed," Darry stated. "I'm going to bring up the old singles from the basement. Maybe that way Pony'll get some sleep without feeling claustrophobic and Soda won't wake up whenever Pony shoves him onto the floor."

I blinked at him for a moment. He was getting rid of the bed in there? In my old room? That was half my bed. And suddenly, the conversation made so much more sense. I could imagine my look was probably closer to an indignant glare. Darry straightened up a bit more, as if to stand his ground for a fight.

"Pepsi," Darry sighed. "The people from the state suggested we get Pony his own bed before you left. They started trying to get me to do something about it after the interviews they had just after Dally and Johnny died, but the nightmares were still bad then."

Yeah, right after the state said we could all stay together, Pony's dreams were terrible. He was probably scared we'd all get separated just after we all dodged a bullet on that very outcome. Was it any wonder he was dreaming about it?

"Pony's not sleeping well. Apparently Soda likes to cuddle. So you want to get rid of the big bed. I get it."

"But?" Darry said expectantly.

"Who says I have a 'but'?" I asked and Darry frowned.

"You've always had an argument. I don't think I've ever made a decision you didn't like without a whole string of 'buts'. So let's hear it."

I looked at Darry for a long moment. He was right. Normally, I would be mad and upset over the fact he was changing something so big in my life. The bed had been in our parents' room, moved into Soda and Pony's room just after the nightmares started. I'd had my own nightmares and I was fighting with Darry at the time, so I argued my way in to sharing a room with Ponyboy. Soda and Darry and both been confused, but there wasn't much they could do about it. So Darry took over our parents' room and Soda moved into our old room. In a way, Soda and Pony back in their first room, and me back in this one…It was one room switch short of things being the way they were before Mom and Dad died. Maybe it was just time. What was the point in arguing that? And it wasn't like I'd been sleeping on that bed for the past couple months, either. All I really had to do was clean out the closet and I wouldn't have anything left in that room.

"You think that after 'Nam, I care about where I sleep at night?" I asked. "It's a bed, Darry. It doesn't mean anything."

"I know it means something to you," Darry replied.

I shrugged. Maybe it did, but that wasn't the point anymore. The point was that there was always change and this was just more change. It was pretty simple, actually.

"Well, it sounds like you have your mind made up and it sounds like a good idea with how Soda and Pony are sleeping." I shrugged, going back to the sewing. "Let me know when you need me to clean out the closet or whatever."

"Actually, since you have tomorrow off, I was hoping you and Soda could work on getting those mattresses and the frames up here during his lunch break."

"What about the old one?" I asked.

"Two-Bit and Pony are going to load it in the truck before school tomorrow. I'll see if anyone wants it at work tomorrow and if not, I'm sure I can stick a sign on it and it'll be gone." He shrugged.

I nodded. Yep, he didn't even have to put a sign on it. He just had to wander off for a few hours and it would be gone.

"Just make sure you wait for Sodapop. It took the pair of us to get it down there," he informed me and I nodded.

"Yeah, I'll wait for Sodapop."

The next day did find both Sodapop and I struggling with the mattress to the first bed. I don't know who Darry thought he was kidding if he thought Soda and I were going to manage this on our own. We were only half way up the stairs after what seemed like hours of straining muscles and sweaty hands. Someone had to have waterlogged it or something. There was no way a mattress could weigh so much. It was probably whatever they made the springs out of. Maybe it wasn't springs at all and just full of rocks or bibles or something heavy as hell. All I knew was that it shouldn't have taken as much effort to move the thing as it did to run maneuvers with a hundred pound pack on in the middle of a Vietnamese summer.

"This thing weighs a ton," I gasped, pushing while Soda yanked.

"It weighs more going up," Soda panted. "Than it did going down."

"At least you're just pulling," I pointed out, leaning my shoulder into the shove a little more.

"At least you don't have to find hand holds," Soda returned, groaning as we got the mattress up another step.

It would have been easier if the mattress wasn't as limp as a dead fish. I'd had survival packs that weighed less than this and supported me for weeks on end. I knew money was tight, but I was willing to pay for new beds personally if it meant I didn't have to haul them up the stairs.

"Ok, new plan," I huffed, shoving the thing up another step, while Soda lifted to keep it from catching on the step. "You and Pony start sleeping like the Vietnamese. Just roll out a pallet on the floor every night – weighs practically nothing."

"They rolled up their beds every night?" Soda asked.

"Had to. The bedroom was every room when the house was only one room."

Soda didn't reply and we managed to get the mattress to the landing. Here is where it was going to get tough. The mattress had to make a tight right turn to get into the house. Whoever thought that one up was a real genius, let me tell ya.

"Here," Soda panted, tugging on the mattress so it was basically jammed on the landing. I let go of it and leaned on the railing.

"How in the world did something so simple turn into this?" I gestured at the mattress and Soda shrugged.

"A lot of things start out like that," he offered. "But the hard part's over."

"Grab us something to drink, will you?"

"After. We should at least get this one in the room." Soda frowned.

"At least we got the frames up," I commented.

"Yeah, but we still have to assemble them," Soda sighed. "If I had known this was going to be such a big deal, I would have told both you and Pony to just push them together."

"I would have suggested that, too."

"Glad we agree." Soda smiled. "Come on. On the count of three, I'll lift and you shove."

"Sure." I nodded and waited for Soda to count.

"One. Two." He took a firm grip on the mattress and I tensed, waiting to move it. "Three!"

I shoved, Soda pulled and then there was a crash. I looked over the mattress to see Soda was sprawled in the basement doorway. Crossing my arms over the top of the mattress, I leaned on them and observed my twin.

"I thought you said we weren't taking a break?" I asked conversationally.

"Yeah, yeah. Be glad I'm the one on my back." He nodded towards the stairs and I nodded in agreement. That would definitely warrant a trip to the hospital.

"Let's give it another shove," I suggested and Soda sighed, getting to his feet.

We pushed, pulled, and twisted, but it seemed like that mattress was bound and determined to give us grief to the very last second.

"Let's pull it back and try going over the railing," I finally suggested and Soda nodded.

There was only one problem with that.

"It's stuck?" Soda asked, sounding like he couldn't believe it.

"Yeah, worse than the sink that one time after Pony got the bright idea to pour the bacon grease down it," I sighed.

"Well, that's great. I have to be back at the DX in twenty minutes."

"And I don't plan on sitting down here all day with my thumb up my ass," I replied.

"Well, what do you think we should do?"

"I have no freaking clue. I can plan out an intricate attack plan in the middle of the jungle, but I can't get a damn mattress up my own stairs."

"I can take an engine apart and fix most anything, but I'm in the same boat you are." Soda grinned at me. "Still want that drink?"

"Yeah." I nodded. "I think I'll just climb over and we can wait to finish this up when Darry gets home."

"You think you can make it?" Soda asked.

"Yeah." I nodded.

The mattress wasn't solid enough to climb on or over, so I had the option of climbing on the rail and past the mattress. Soda was still frowning at me, but I figured the stairs were stable enough, so the railings would be, too.

So I climbed up on the railing and steadied myself on the bare roof beams. My father, the craftsman of the house, had always wanted to put up a roof down here. It was one of the many plans he had. I sighed, not willing to think about it. I easily walked along the rail, thinking Steve or Darry would have been more graceful, but I knew no one was watching.

"Careful," Soda ordered.

Well, Soda didn't count.

I was about to tell him it was fine when there was a splintering sound. I think both Soda and I looked pretty comical right then with our eyes wide and our mouths open, but a moment later my feet were touching nothing but air and I had other concerns. I shoved myself forward against the roof beams I'd been holding onto and landed hard against the wall. I honestly slumped onto the landing, feeling my heart pound. I wasn't used to excitement like that anymore. Neither was Soda if the way he was gripping the doorframe was any indication.

We both took a long breath and I smiled at Soda. He didn't return it, instead stepping over me and grabbing the mattress. I glanced at where it was slipping back down the stairs with no railing to hold it in place. This was turning into the chore from hell. I got up and pulled on it, too, feeling victorious as it moved further up and along the landing. Suddenly it was loose and we were pulling too hard. Both Soda and I fell back onto the floor of the hallway off the kitchen, panting, half the mattress overflowing with us.

"Well, I guess we solved that problem."

Soda nodded. "Darry's not going to like that."

"I think he'd like it even less if you two had nowhere to sleep tonight. I can always fix the railing tomorrow."

"You get to tell him, then," Soda delegated.

"Yeah, yeah," I replied. "Should we get this down the hall before we collapse?"

"I suppose," Soda sighed. "This time you pull and I'll push."

"Sure, when it's easy you want to push," I groaned, yanking the mattress a little further into the hall.

Soda helped turn it and a few minutes later we had it leaning up against the wall in the bedroom. Soda cursed as his shin connected with one of the bed frames and I nearly tripped backwards over the other.

"This is crazy." I shook my head. "How did you two ever move in here with two beds?"

"It was better when they were put together," Soda explained, rubbing his shin and glaring at where the bed frame he had tripped over was still sitting in pieces waiting to be put back together.

"Come on, I think we earned a couple Millers."

Soda grinned, shaking his head. "How about a Miller and a Pepsi?"

"I think Pony drank it all. There's Coke," I offered, following Soda into the kitchen.

Soda had to get back to work not too long after we took our break. Somewhere along the line, he decided that we should wait for Darry before getting the other mattress. Now, I knew how heavy the thing would be and I knew that it was really hard to move, even with Soda helping, but I was bored. Many people can tell you that a bored Curtis led to disaster, but what did they know? Only my brothers knew how bad the disaster could really get. As it was, trying to move that mattress on my own was low on the disaster scale. It took me forty-five minutes to get the damn thing up the stairs and onto the landing. But even with the rail gone, there was a problem. See, when we'd got most of it into the hall, we could turn it. With no one to turn it, the mattress was jammed. I leaned as far on the mattress to see what the hold up was and wanted to groan.

When Soda and I had been snacking, he'd left the door to the hall closet open. From what I could see, if I pulled the mattress back, it was going to get caught on the latch and probably rip to hell. But as it was, I couldn't push it forward. It was fully and thoroughly stuck. And because of the railing missing, I was trapped in the basement. Great. Yeah, that was my luck for you. At least Ponyboy and Two-Bit would be traipsing in right around four. And if they weren't, then Darry would be home around six. That gave me anywhere from two to four hours to wait. I was the master of waiting. I'd spent a day solid in a tree waiting for a shot. A few hours in a cluttered basement should have been nothing.

Key word there was 'should'. After thirty minutes of going through junk and another twenty of sitting on the stairs quietly, I was ready to pull my hair out. I'd forgotten that Darry moved everything interesting from the basement to the shed, so I couldn't even fix the railing while I was waiting. There wasn't even a screwdriver down here. Or if there was, I wasn't sure where to find one. It was like he'd kid proofed the basement. Not that a lot of Mom's junk wasn't still hanging around, but I could tell Darry was slowly weeding it out. That broken birdcage she wanted Dad to fix if we ever got a bird, a few of those seed jars, and a couple of the broken pots were gone. I guess I really was bored if I was making notes on everything Darry changed.

"Alright, Pepsi," I muttered to myself. "How are you going to pass four hours?"

It was about ten minutes later that I got the bright idea to climb on the stuff to get at the basement window. It was really high off the floor, but if I stacked everything right, it was an easy reach. Problem was the window was painted shut. Though that was probably a good idea in this neighborhood…

I sighed. I wondered if this was how life was for Soda? I mean, I got twitchy, but he practically never sat still.

There were a few techniques I'd learned over in 'Nam to settle myself down and I thought it was ironic that something from over there was actually useful here. So I laid down on the floor and concentrated on my heart rate and deep breathing. The only problem with it was that I always fell asleep doing it.

"Hey, anybody home?"

I twitched, definitely not awake.

"Why's this mattress half in the hallway?" Pony yelled. "Just like Pepsi and Soda to leave half way through the job…And it's stuck, too. That's just great."

There were some noises upstairs and I assumed Ponyboy was doing something with the mattress.

"There, was that so hard?" He grumbled. "And then they probably still have the other one down there and…What did they do to the rail…Pepsi!"

I jolted back to awake and blinked up at where Pony was standing on the landing looking stricken.

"Oh god, don't move!"

"Why?" I yawned as he dashed down the stairs.

"That whole railing collapsed! Why were you trying to move that by yourself?" He demanded and I frowned at him.

"Because I was bored."

"You know what, lie still and I'll go call for some help."

"Why?" I asked, wiping a hand over my face.

"You fell from up there and you have to ask that?" He asked and I blinked.

I guess it kind of did look like I'd taken a spill from up there. In retrospect, I could have found another part of the floor to fall asleep on, further away from the pieces of the broken railing.

"I didn't fall. It broke while Soda and I were moving the first mattress," I explained. "We were both bruised up, but we beat the mattress."

"Why were you on the floor then?" He frowned at me.

"Funny story. I got bored, tried to move the mattress, got stuck down here, and decided to take a nap out of pure boredom." I shrugged.

"You were…napping?"

"Yeah." I smiled, a chuckle forcing its way out at the look of disbelief on Pony's face.

"It's not funny!" Pony told me, arms crossed over his chest.

"Oh, come on. It is a little funny."

He seemed to think on it for a moment before shaking his head and a small smile made it to his lips.

"Sometimes you remind me of Dad more than even Soda," he commented and I blinked.

I could see where he was coming from because Dad liked a good joke about as much as Two-Bit did. I blinked because Soda and Dad were so alike in personality that it would have been hard to tell them apart if they looked like each other. The same could be said for Darry and Mom. Pony and I were the odd ones out on that, but it never bothered me because that made us more alike. To be compared with Dad was a compliment.

"Thanks."

"So, I got that mattress unstuck. You want some help getting it the rest of the way to our room?" Pony asked, straightening up from where he had been kneeling beside me.

"Is it only you helping?" I asked and Pony stiffened.

"If you're going to be like that –"

"No, I didn't mean it that way. It's just that it took both Soda and I a lot of effort to get the first one anywhere. I was hoping Darry was around because my arms feel like Jello."

"Oh." Pony blushed a little. "Darry's not home, but if you push and I pull, we can manage."

"I'm going to need another nap after this," I sighed. "Give me a hand up."

Pony offered me his hand and I took it, up on my feet a minute later. The kid was definitely a lot stronger than he looked.

"So, are you going to fix that?" he gestured towards the broken railing.

"Yeah, if I can ever find a hammer around here." I shrugged.

"Kitchen drawer closest to the back door."

"Since when?" I asked, climbing the stairs behind him.

"Since forever," he replied, giving me a funny look.

I nodded and followed him upstairs, pushing the mattress into the room with Pony's help. He managed to catch his shin on a piece of bed frame closest to the door and I smirked, wise to the mess by now. Pony glared at me before letting go of the mattress and stalking out of the room. I leaned the heavy thing against the wall and waited to see if he was coming back or not. He finally did come back with the hammer and a kitchen towel. The joints of the bed frame were meant to come apart and just needed to be beat back into place. I nodded at the decision to bring a towel to keep the wood from being marked up, too.

He sat down against the wall, leaning against the first mattress Soda and I had brought up while I tried to figure out which piece was going where. At this point, we hadn't really spoken to each other in three months, so it didn't surprise me that we fell into a quiet companionship. I wasn't even sure we were ok or if he was mad at me still but I would take anything I could get at this point.

By the time both frames were back together and the mattresses were in their proper places, I had to admit that Soda was right. The room wasn't so bad when everything was in place. They had enough room between the beds for a night table and one of Mom's old woven rugs. Darry still wanted to swap my dresser in here for the smaller one in my room, but I figured I'd done more than my fair share of moving things today, so he could enlist someone else to do it later. With the smaller one in the room, they'd have a lot more room to move.

Ponyboy sighed and flopped down on the bed under the window, sinking into the mattress.

"I liked the big bed, but twelve years of sleeping on this one…" he trailed off, closing his eyes, ankles hanging off the end of the bed. "I was shorter then."

"Yep," I agreed flopping down on the other one, feeling a familiarity with it, too. "Hey Pony?"

"Yeah?" he asked.

"We have to move this one across the hall," I offered.

Pony looked at me, groaning. "Why didn't you think of that before we got everything settled?"

"I'm slow on the uptake sometimes." I shrugged and he snorted in agreement. "Besides, I figure Soda'll want his bed in here. He's been really good about this game of musical beds."

Pony nodded. "Yeah."

We laid there for a few minutes, both just staring at the ceiling. I wanted to ask if this meant we were ok again, but I didn't want to ruin whatever this comfortable feeling was between us with a dumb question. But in my mind, it was anything but dumb.

Pony sighed and got up, smirking a little at me. "Come on. If we get it done before Soda and Darry get home, they'll have to do the dressers on their own."

I nodded, getting to my feet and decided I was going to take what I could get. Things may not be good between us yet, but at least we were doing better. That was a good start.

* * *

Oh com'on, they had to grow up at some point!

Any comments at all are welcome and flames accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!!

Tens & Zickachik


	21. Burnt Chicken and Trick Thumbs

Hi all. It's been a long time for this one and I know that is very bad of me. I just lost the voice to keep it going. But I have been working hard on it lately and here it is. I've been sitting on this chapter and the next three for a few weeks and hope that it sounds...right, that the character voice is there. Anyways, this one is completely un-beta'd since I just can't sit on it any longer, you know? If I go over it again, it's just going to end up deleted. So here it is, mistakes and all. Perhaps Zickachik will be nice enough to fix it for me later :).

Disclaimer: The usual

Chapter 21

My life was officially at a standstill. But this time, I was alright with it. There was really nothing I could think to change and change wasn't all it was cracked up to be. I had a best friend in Dottie, my brothers were all getting along for once, my repaired relationship with Ponyboy was coasting alright, and even my nightmares were fading. I was content and even, dare I say, happy? Yeah, I didn't dare say that, but I was as close to it as I could remember being in a long time. I didn't even mind going to work. I never saw myself staying with that – the bar I mean. It was a simple, peaceful job most of the time, and I liked it. I owed Mrs. M a big thank you one of these days. It was one thing on my long to-do list.

The plus side to all of that was that there seemed to be so much time in my life now. I worked all night, slept 'til mid-morning, got some cleaning in, and usually ended up out at Buck's on the back of one of the horses. No matter what, I managed to come home tired and hungry at the end of the day. Today was no different.

Well, maybe it was. The house smelled like smoke instead of food today and that put my appetite right off.

"Dar, who's watching this?" I hollered, opening up the oven door to a burnt chicken. No, not burnt – cremated.

"Shit."

I glanced over my shoulder and gave Pony what I hoped was an admonishing look. He came to stand beside where I had the oven door open, smoke billowing into the kitchen. He groaned and ran a hand through his hair – a very Sodapop gesture – before reaching for the oven mitts. He pulled out the chicken and cursed again before throwing it in the sink, pan and all. I wondered what had him so distracted for an entire chicken to turn to ash, but knew there was probably a good book behind all of this.

"Darry know you can cuss like that?" I asked after a moment.

"Where do you think I learned it?" He replied, eyes focused on the chicken. "Darry lost a bill last year while you were gone and they shut off the power. Everything in the ice box melted and we came home to everything spoiled. Soda said he heard Darry cussing all the way down at the DX he was so loud. Since then, he doesn't say much when I randomly cuss."

"Sounds like a Darry response," I replied, talking about both the cussing over the wasted food and how he would react after Ponyboy heard him yelling like that.

Pony grunted in agreement, going over to the cupboard. He looked at it for a minute and sighed. "Darry hasn't been shopping in a while. I have no ideas for dinner."

"Yeah, he said he's going to go tomorrow," I replied, opening up the fridge to take a look for something to make into a meal.

We had some potatoes and a plate of left over pasta, but that was about it.

"Any soup in there?" I chanced and Pony shook his head.

"Just a can of beans. That won't stretch far." Pony looked over at me for the first time, looking tired and frustrated. "Do you have money to get something?"

"Yeah, I have some tips stashed up. Get your shoes on and we'll go to the store."

I walked out of the room to go and grab some cash from where I had it stashed under my mattress. When I came back out, Pony was still standing in his stocking feet, looking over at me with a frown.

"You don't want to come?" I asked and he shook his head.

"Maybe I should just go," he suggested.

I leaned back against Darry's chair with my arms folded over my chest and waited. Pony looked at me for a minute before shrugging a little.

"Last time we went to the store together, we didn't speak for three months."

I felt like laughing, but I didn't. God, that kid had a way of holding onto things. I hadn't even thought of that. I figured since we were talking now, it might be nice to have some company. That and I had no idea what I wanted for dinner beyond a batch of dirty carrots. I had enough sense to know that no one else in the family would eat them, though. They'd probably just give me strange looks, just like they did every time I wanted something out of the ordinary. I had been home nearly four months and I still had strange cravings for things I swore I would never eat again after surviving in the jungle. We didn't wash vegetables in Nam since there wasn't time or water to spare most of the time. Dirty carrots sounded just right. Nice, raw, crunchy, dirty carrots.

"Well, you know, three months of silence is overrated," I offered with a shrug. "So I'll give you a list. Alright?"

Pony nodded, looking grateful. Something told me he would always be a strange kid, no matter how old he got.

"You gonna go out in your socks?" I asked, nodding at his feet.

He shook his head and flopped down on the floor, fishing out his shoes from under the couch. Well, good for him. I wouldn't have looked there first, but then again I knew better than to leave my shoes anywhere but at the front door. I turned to the kitchen and wrote down a short list of things that were good to eat, hoping he could find dirty carrots and some hot peppers in the same store as corn flakes and gravy mix. Soda had always been the one with the strange tastes in the family, but this list was right on par for the way my mouth was rewired in Nam.

Pony glanced over the list with a frown but he didn't comment. They all just put on that look when I came up with something odd to eat. Last week it had been pasta, greens and fried spam in soy sauce with some ginger and garlic to taste. Gabe Roy used to cook up something similar back in Nam when we had the greens and noodles or rice. Usually, it was just the fried meat or even jerked meat from our survival packs. Needless to say, none of my brothers touched it and Two-Bit made a lot of comments, but that was alright with me.

"Here, take the T-Bird," I suggested, fishing my keys from my coat.

"What if you want to go somewhere?" He asked and I felt like shaking my head at him. For all those brains, sometimes he made me wonder if he was just using his head to grow hair on.

"I'm hungry and you're going to get dinner. Believe me, don't plan on going anywhere." I shook my head. "Even if I did feel the sudden urge to take off, I have two feet. And one finger."

Pony frowned, probably trying to think on what I could use one finger for. The answer was simple – dialing Buck's phone number and threatening him to get here in ten minutes or less.

"I'll be back in a bit, then."

I nodded, hoping that he wouldn't take too long. Now that I had those carrots on my mind, I was tempted to go back to the stable to get some. They never washed the ones in the barrel.

I sighed and headed over to the fridge, deciding that a little left over, normal looking pasta wasn't going to hurt my returned appetite. I was still eating that when I spied the mail and shifted through the usual bills and mess of stuff that Darry kept around for reasons I didn't get. For example, there was a letter around here somewhere that had declared Darry a fit guardian and flyer for a plumber friend of Dad's. It was the kind of stuff I would have thrown out years ago because it was all just paper. Paper burned, paper got wet, and paper didn't capture anything. We remembered that moment and getting a hold of Dad's friend was as easy as hollering out the back window. I just couldn't put any stock in paper.

What did catch my eye was an advertisement to enlist that was tucked between the water bill and a letter that was addressed to one of the neighbors – the post man never did try too hard in this neighborhood. Even though sometimes it was fun to open the neighbor's mail, it was the enlistment advertisement I focused on. It was just aggravating. People weren't supposed to be solicited like that in their own homes. That was almost as bad as the Cong going in and recruiting by killing some of the locals to get the others to fall in line. At least they were more direct with their propaganda than Uncle Sam.

"What burned in here?"

"Chicken," I replied, leaving the mail on the table, minus the enlistment notice, which was stuffed in my back pocket for safe keeping. "Ponyboy went to the store to find something not burnt."

Darry hummed in a distracted way, pulling the chicken – pan and all – from the sink.

"He told me about the bill last year that had this place full of spoilt food and your cussing," I told him and he hummed again. "By the way, I got drafted. Technically, redrafted."

"Hum."

It figured that he'd ignore me when I was the only other person in the house. There were a hundred different times while I was sixteen that I could have only wished for Darry to be so disconnected. Now, I didn't know what to make of him. I shook my head and went down the hall to my room, flopping on my bed, and pulling the book I'd been reading out from under the shirt I tossed over it. Something clanked in the sink and Darry's footsteps stomped down the hall until they stopped at my open door.

"Redrafted?" Darry demanded, steeled for the worst.

"Relax, Darry. Uncle Sam's trying, but I'm not putting out," I replied, digging in my back pocket and tossing the flyer at Darry. "You should really pay more attention when I'm talking to you."

Darry slumped against the door jam and ran a hand through his hair, looking more like an old man than I'd seen him in a while.

"God," he sighed and I felt a little bad about catching him off guard. "I suppose this teaches me a good lesson."

"What? To always pay attention when someone's trying to criticize the example you set for our kid brother?"

"No. I should never leave the mail where you can find it," he replied. "And I didn't mean to ignore you. I was thinking about something."

"Yeah?" I asked, flipping the page of my book, even though I never read a word of it.

"Yeah. My thumb is throbbing."

I set my book down then. "Bull shit."

"And you were criticizing my swearing?" Darry asked, shaking his head.

"Darry, your thumb," I reminded.

Back in high school, Darry got caught under what was probably the entire Defensive line during a practice. His thumb took the brunt of the fall, both breaking and dislocating under the face guard of some guy's helmet. Now every time his thumb throbbed bad weather was soon to follow. I always thought it was a neat quirk, but cold weather was not something I was looking forward to.

"Ached bad enough I was tempted to hit it with a hammer."

"Damn."

Darry nodded. When that happened, we got worse weather. I had to admit we were getting unusually nice weather, seeing as how it was the first of November and we were barely getting frost at night. This time last year I'd been in the tropics of Laos and it had been the middle of summer down there. I shivered once, feeling the difference between here and my memory. The difference was like night and day. Was it any wonder I couldn't acclimatize? My body didn't even know what time of year it was supposed to shiver through. I knew if I could just trick Darry into turning up the thermostat, I could actually survive to spring and might even find that warm. Tricking Darry was harder than you'd think, though. He relied on his thumb, after all.

"You know what cold weather means," Darry sighed and I nodded.

Cold weather meant that there would be more days off on the site for Darry. In the past, that meant that he had always fallen back on his night job. Since he was making more by building houses these days, he didn't have a night job. That meant he was going to be short a lot of money, depending on how bad the weather got.

"Pony's got an after school job and I'm getting steady wages from the bar. We'll make out fine, Darry."

"It's my job to be the one to take care you, not the other way around."

"We've had this argument a hundred times, Dar. So if we hand you the money, just do me a favour and try not to scowl too much, okay?"

Darry shook his head, a slight smirk on his face now. "Sure. So, what did you and Pony decide on for dinner?"

"Another jungle creation, if he brings the right stuff home," I replied, watching Darry's expression go sour. "Pony's probably going to bring home something generic, though. Like more chicken or something."

"With any luck," Darry commented, turning to leave.

"Love you too, Dar," I called after him, turning another page in the book I wasn't really reading.

As it turned out, Ponyboy did bring everything I wanted home, but he also brought back all the fixings for fried chicken and mashed potatoes. I just shook my head and helped peel the potatoes as Soda went through the cupboards looking for the green food dye. He said he was feeling in an Irish mood. I was, too, but my idea of Irish food was a tall glass of black ale and a shot of whiskey to go with my potatoes and red meat. I didn't bother pointing that out. I just stripped the potatoes of the skins and made sure to keep them in a separate bowl. Dad always kept them and fried them up in the pan the chicken was in. I absently popped a raw chunk of skin into my mouth and thought they tasted fine either way.

"So, how was work, Soda?" I asked, concentrating on the huge potato I was working on.

"You want to know how work was." He shook his head. "Should I be asking you if you're sick?"

"You know, I'm not gonna ask anymore if the only two times I do get me reactions like that," I pointed out. "And I'm not sick."

"Well, Detective O'Toole stopped by to get his oil changed and asked after everyone," Soda offered. "First thing he wanted to know was if you're sick or something."

"You know, only a cop would assume you're sick because you were keeping out of trouble." Pony shook his head, helping Darry set the table.

"Nah. I'm sure there are plenty of people who think that," I offered. "You know, if Dal kept out of trouble for a week, Pripich used to go over to his place to see if he was alive or not. I suppose O'Toole at the DX after a couple months is okay. Not as impressive, but okay."

"Just shows how far down the food chain you are," Steve hollered from where he was kicking back in the living room.

"Randle, you want to see how far down the food chain I am, then just come on in here."

"I don't need to see it to know it," he replied.

"Pepsi," Soda said, eyes pleading with me to keep peace in the house, with Steve, for one night.

"Yeah, he's got that right," I commented, not responding to Steve. "He knows it because he's pretty much at the bottom."

Steve didn't hear me and Soda was quick to change the subject as he started plunking the potatoes into the pot of boiling water he had going on the stove. "So, how much snow do you think we'll get?"

"A lot," Darry replied, rubbing at his sore thumb. "Probably a lot of ice, too."

"Great."

"What do you mean?" I asked, watching as Pony shrugged.

"If it's bad enough, they might cancel school. That would be great."

"I thought tomorrow was that writing class you like," Darry commented and Pony nodded.

"Yeah, but lately it's the only class I like on Tuesdays. Don't tell Miss Richards I said that," he added, looking over at me seriously.

I was starting to suspect Pony had a thing for Dottie. I wasn't worried about it – Dottie was too wrapped up in her own life and Pony always did pick unattainable girls. I still thought he was pining over Bob Sheldon's girl. That showed how much I knew about his life these days.

"Miss Richards." I smirked at the sound of that. She was always just plain old Dottie in my books. "Just doesn't sound right. It makes me think of some little old bitty of a teacher with a ruler. Like what's her face…"

"Mrs. Johansen," all three of my brothers threw in when I failed to come up with a name.

"That's the one. I used to come home with whip marks from that thing."

"And claw marks on my ears," Soda threw in.

"And Bs even though I was handing in A grade work," Darry huffed like his grades still annoyed him after all these years.

"She was alright," Pony offered with a shrug. "She used to help me with my math after class and there were always cookies in this little red tin she kept in the bottom drawer."

"Cookies? How did you manage that?" Soda asked and Pony shrugged.

"You were cute and shy and probably didn't think math class was better used for spit ball practice." Darry turned a harsh eye on Soda and me then.

I shrugged and Soda smiled innocently. We were in the same math class back then. We had to have been twelve at the oldest. I was always excellent with numbers and had a lot of free time on my hands in that class. Soda was terrible with them and usually figured that spending his time on something fun got his mind off of how much he hated that class. Add in Two-Bit and Steve and you could see why Mrs. Johansen hated us. Darry…well, I had no idea why she disliked him. He was a goody two shoes pre-jock. Heck, he was a taller version of Pony back then. I didn't bother asking, though. If I really wanted to sit through a long list of occasions she was being unfair, then I would ask. But I'd had her as a teacher. I knew probably everything Darry could complain about, Soda and Steve probably did, too.

"I think this chicken is nearly done. Where's Two-Bit?" Soda asked, checking the meal.

"He said he and Rachel had plans tonight, but that he'd probably be here in the morning," Pony replied, getting up to sprinkle more pepper on the chicken.

"Man, if he spends any more nights over at Rachel's, they're going to end up parents." I shook my head and tried to picture Two-Bit as a dad. I just couldn't do it. He was nothing like our dad or Dallas' or Steve's or even Johnny's. I didn't know what to think of that.

"Well, you can give him a lecture on that tomorrow morning, Mr. No Action," Steve offered, coming into the kitchen to see how everything was going or something.

I just levelled Steve with a cool look. He knew absolutely nothing about anything. So I didn't bother trying to make him understand. Before I left, there were some girls at Buck's and Lily, but nothing rough or too serious because it was fun. Over there, sex was about power and fear. I'd seen women after rapes that had been so brutal they had literally killed them – tore them in half and made them bleed until there was nothing left. I was helpless to do anything but bury the bodies. Steve had probably been too high to remember any of that. If he did, he probably wouldn't be quick to jump into bed with anyone he didn't trust. So if it meant no action, then fine. At least I wasn't bringing any more kids into this messed up world any time soon.

"Steve," Soda hissed and I shook my head.

"No, he's right," I replied, leaving the kitchen. "Who am I to preach to anyone?"

Someday, I was going to manage to leave the war behind me, but it looked like today was just not that day. And until then, I was going to have to keep walking away from Steve or I was going to lose my patience and show him just how much of the war I was still carrying with me.

* * *

Well, it was clearly a nice filler chapter for everything else I want to have happen in the next few. Thanks for reading.

Any comments at all are welcome and flames are accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!

Tens & Zickachik


	22. Instinct

Hi All. I know, this is pretty well on time for once! Go figure, eh? Well, there has been inspiration striking left, right and centre, and Zickachik was awesome enough to edit this up for me. So special thanks to her! Oh, and this one is a two parter, just to be on the safe side - 22 page chapters bother me. So on with the show...

Disclaimer: The usual

Chapter 22

Darry was right when he said it was going to snow. I just didn't expect it to be inside. I guess that was why I was startled awake when I got a face full of white, fluffy, wet flakes. I jolted up in bed, coughing and wiping at my face, barely even noticing the peals of laughter coming from the right side of my bed.

"Come on, Sunshine! Winter's here and you're missing it!" Two-Bit crowed, smiling brightly and laughing.

"You-you –" I sputtered, not knowing what was bad enough to call him and cursing at something else instead. "God!"

"No – Two-Bit, but you can give Rachel some pointers on what to shout out in bed," he offered, grinning like mad.

I snarled at him, throwing my pillow in his general direction and reaching behind the mattress for the knife I had stashed there. It was stuck and by the time I gave up on it, Two-Bit had run from the room, laughing like a mad man, knowing I was going to chase after him. I leapt up after him, forgetting the knife because I knew that no matter how mad I was I wasn't about to actually stab him. Just the fear would be enough of a revenge for a face full of snow. Besides, it only felt natural to be tearing after someone with a blade in my hand. It was wild and predatory in a way nothing else in Tulsa could measure up to. I was trying my best to be predatory without it, snarling as I followed him out the front door.

My brain was slow to catch up on the fact that I had been woken with a face full of snow. By the time I realized that everything outside was covered with snow, I was already skidding off of the deck and tripping over my own feet so bad that I fell into the pile shovelled off the front walkway. Two-Bit was howling as I tried to get my hands under me. I was winded and my whole body was stinging from the cold, shocked so badly that I could barely even draw in a breath.

Someone was helping me to stand up and when I had my feet under me, I literally clung to whoever was holding me up. There was a foot of snow, at least, and I was in nothing more than my shorts and a t-shirt. I couldn't remember ever being this cold in my entire life. It was as if I'd been thrown onto a thousand little needles that made every one of my muscles lock up tight before releasing violently, uncontrollably trembling in response to the weather.

"Two-Bit, I told you to leave him alone!" Darry growled from where he was evidently holding me up. "And you shouldn't have run out here without clothes on. I thought you at least had more sense than that."

I would have gaped, but I was too busy trying to stand on his foot to keep my feet off the freezing ground.

"Come on, Darry! It was hilarious," Two-Bit pointed out. "And no one told him not to get dressed."

"You have to admit, that was pretty dumb," Steve threw in and I was tempted to warm myself up by hitting him, but that would mean putting my feet back on the ground.

Darry sighed, pulling up more of my weight to keep it off his foot. "Come on in and get some breakfast before it gets cold."

Before breakfast gets cold? Was he kidding me? I stomped down on his foot, just to watch the wince on his face. "Darry!"

Darry hauled me a few feet and set me back on the relatively swept front step. I hopped back into the house, going straight for the shower. I didn't even bother stripping, turning the hot water on and stepping in. My bare feet and arms were red from the cold, but it didn't take long for the water to warm me up.

When I finally did get out of the shower, I left my sopping wet clothes on the bottom of the bath tub just to be a jerk. By the time I was willing to join my family and those jackasses we called friends, I was dressed in so many layers, my arms and legs probably weren't getting enough blood flow. But even with the amount of clothing I was wearing, there was still a chill that had settled deep in my bones. I was sure that there was no way I was going to feel warm again until spring came.

Everyone was around the kitchen table and eating breakfast when I walked in. I sandwiched myself between Soda and Pony, leaning into Soda who was throwing off more heat than he had a right to. Darry set down a cup of coffee in front of me, before going back to the stove and working on pancakes. Steve and Two-Bit had enough brains not to say anything, but from the smirks they threw behind Darry's back, you could tell they only regretted the fact Darry had spoiled their fun.

If I had been wearing shoes, they would have gotten the butt kicking of the century. I had been cold for weeks during the summer in Tulsa, so it was safe to say that all the white fluffy flakes falling to the ground had me freezing. If I had been dressed, at least I would have had less of a shock, but that was army training for you – you jumped up when there was danger and you killed it before it killed you, no matter what you were or weren't wearing. Unfortunately, all my training was good for was the jungle where the coldest it ever got was when it was raining and the cold wind was blowing through you.

"I wasn't missing anything," I informed Two-Bit after a couple gulps of scalding coffee. "The snow was wet, cold, and now I'm miserable. So thank you."

"Come on, it was a joke. I thought you would have had enough sense to put your coat and shoes on before you joined our snow ball fight." Two-Bit shook his head. "But I'm willing to bet you won't be doing that twice."

"I'm just surprised you didn't pummel Two-Bit before you hit the snow," Steve commented. "What was the hold up?"

"My bayonet clip is caught behind the mattress," I replied easily. "I'll fix it later."

"Man, you're a hoot," Two-Bit chuckled a bit nervously and I left him to stew on that thought. "Isn't he? Steve?"

"I wouldn't have put it past him to have kept some souvenirs." Steve studied me for a long moment before going back to his breakfast. I would have asked him what he kept, but my body was still shaking badly enough that I couldn't find it in myself to care.

"Just as long as none of those souvenirs make it into Pony's hands," Darry threatened and Pony didn't even make a fuss at being treated like a little kid.

"He already has most of my clothing," I griped. "I have to keep something for myself."

Darry frowned like he didn't like the sound of that. I bet he would have commented if the phone hadn't rung right then.

"That the school calling to see where you've gotten to?" I asked and Pony shook his head.

"Everything is shut down today," Pony replied, looking pleased and I couldn't blame him. He told me himself last night that he wanted a snow day and he got it.

"So we are going to spend the whole day having a snowball fight," Two-Bit threw in.

"Have fun." I nodded, taking another sip and knowing I wasn't going to be joining them.

Heck, if I had my way, it would be mid July before I bothered to leave the house again. Maybe by then it would be warm.

"Pepsi. Phone," Darry called from the other room and I got up to answer it.

"Hello?"

"_Enjoying the snow, Tarzan?"_

"You're hilarious, Dot."

"_You must not know any funny people."_

"Definitely not," I growled, thinking of my so called friends this morning. "What do you need, Dottie?"

"_Well, I called our illustrious boss this morning and got informed that people will still go to the bar in this weather. So if we want jobs tomorrow, we have to show up tonight."_

"Great."

"_And I was hoping you still have that car that smells like feet."_

"It only smells when it's hot," I replied, wondering how she always got away with insults like that and still managed to get what she wanted. "Besides, it's Buck's car, not mine. I don't care what it smells like as long as I can drive it."

I just filled the tank when I needed to and the car was pretty much expense free. I would have thought Buck would ask for it back at some point, but he had a truck that he drove most of the time since it had a trailer hitch. I figure he only ever had the car around so that Dallas wouldn't take off with the truck, so he probably didn't even care. For all I knew, I was doing him a favour by driving it.

"_But you still have it, right?"_

"I'm not sure that I want to drive in this."

"_Then I want you to at least walk over to my place and bring me to work with you so that I have proof I wasn't the only one walking in this slop."_

I sighed to myself. I could handle a jeep in the middle of a monsoon across a field that got turned into the world's biggest swamp, but I was afraid of a little snow? All I knew was that I was not walking anywhere.

"I'll be at your place around four. We'll catch a bite before our shift starts," I replied.

"_Good. We'll eat at the diner, okay?"_

"Sure, sounds good. See ya then."

I hung up the phone and wondered if that T-Bird was even going to start in this weather. I hoped so, because there was no way in hell I was going to walk all the way over to Dottie's. I'd quit first.

I walked back into the kitchen, catching the draft off the front door and shook from it. I officially hated winter. I still hated it when I dug out the T-Bird later in the afternoon and managed to get it out of the neighbourhood and over to Dottie's apartment. She was waiting for me inside the main doors and was outside a moment after I shut off the engine to go in and get her.

That was a big mistake.

Buck's T-Bird coughed as I forced the key to turn. It liked the cold weather about as much as I did. We both shook in the cold as the engine struggled to turn over and I struggled to stay in the freezing cold cab instead of calling it quits and going inside.

"Come on, come on," I muttered, smacking the dash and wincing as my hand stung. "The faster we get going, the faster we can park again."

"Or you could not go anywhere and stay parked," Dottie pointed out from where she was sitting beside me. "Because I think that's the car's vote."

"The car doesn't get a vote," I replied, trying to force the key again.

"You keep telling yourself that," Dottie suggested, firmly pulling her jacket around her shoulders.

I sighed. This was technically her fault. If I hadn't have stopped, the engine wouldn't be in death throws. It seemed fitting today. The snow seemed to have killed all my hopes, so it might as well kill the car, too.

"Not an option," I replied. "This hunk of junk is just being stubborn. But it should know by now that I'm more stubborn."

"Ah. So it's a battle of wills."

I didn't dignify that with a response. I just gave it some gas and hoped it would turn over. I was about to let out a long string of curses when a rough turn on the key finally had the beast coughing to life. I grinned and gave Dottie a smug look.

"Anyone could have done that," she pointed out. "I would have been impressed if you had done something to actually fix it."

"It's running, isn't it?" I pointed out.

"Yeah, it is, but you're going to have the same fight on your hands every time you stop and start it again."

"I'm not Sodapop, despite my looks," I replied, pulling out onto the street. "Machines hate me. So I'm going to have to live with the fighting until he can take a look at it."

She smiled at that. "Let me know when you do get it properly fixed."

"Sure."

"But since I know Hell will have frozen up before then, I'll ask you for a favour now instead of waiting for that conversation."

Sure. A favour wasn't so much to ask. I owed Dottie a couple. I nodded for her to go on and she reached for the bag by her feet.

"I need to know what you're doing on December 10th."

I glanced at where she had a pocket notebook out. She wrote down her shifts on it. I was always more for scribbling mine down on a piece of paper or even the back of my hand when I was lacking that. I'd considered getting my own notebook, but then I'd actually have to have plans.

"Probably freezing my nuts off," I replied. "Why?"

"My cousin is getting married."

"Good for her," I replied, taking a turn a little fast for this weather.

"Him. David," she replied. "And yes, the whole family is thrilled for him, but it causes problems for me. See, I need a date for the event."

"You thought of me and not one of your college buddies?"

"Well, you're handsome and you won't make something out of it," she offered. "Plus, you give off a dangerous vibe. It rolls off you in waves. My old bitty aunts would just swallow their tongues if you came."

"How can I say no to that?" I replied, earning a smile.

"If you do say no, I'll just have to ask someone else, like Soda or your friend, Steve."

I scowled at that. Steve was not my friend. Steve was Soda's friend. She'd met both of them and she'd even gotten along with them, but a date with Steve? She was just trying to get under my skin. I took the bait.

"Fine, I'll do it, but don't expect much out of me."

"You'll do fine as long as you show up bruise – and blood – free," she replied. "Though...that would probably make the annual Christmas letter..."

She smirked to herself, literally penciling me in. I just hoped I managed to remember that I'd agreed to this. That was the pain in the ass about being sober – you couldn't deny anything.

"Who's he marrying? The Empress of Mexico?"

Dottie frowned at me for a moment before smiling.

"That is the closest thing to a joke I have heard you say all day," she pointed out. "No, she is not the Empress of anywhere. I can't remember her name, but it's on the invitation I have at home."

I nodded, watching traffic as Dottie acted like a chick for one of the rare moments since I had met her.

"They knew each other in high school, but only started dating recently, so the whole family thinks she's either pregnant or looking to get into the money that David has coming from his mother's side. Me, I know Dave is a jerk, so it's probably something wrong inside her head or she has a thing for jerks."

"Your family has money?" I frowned, wondering why Dottie would be working in a bar to put herself through school if that were the case.

"I have three brothers and a sister, so not really. You'll like my brothers."

I doubted it. Fake dates for sisters at weddings were rarely liked.

"And my...oh, Kitty is going to be so jealous!" She smirked. "Big sister brought Fred Grant to the last wedding and he was gorgeous, but the vibe he gave off was closer to a preening kitty cat."

"You know, I'm not so sure I want to go anymore."

Dottie rolled her eyes. "You and I both know you're going to go anyways."

Yeah, she had a point there. She asked me and I owed her. Plus, with Steve as the alternative, I was pretty much hooked into it.

"Well, that's one thing down."

"We have more to talk about?" I asked, turning onto the road I wanted.

From the look she gave me, that was just a dumb question.

"Do you have anything to wear?"

"Nope, I'm sitting here naked."

"I meant to a wedding."

I shrugged. "I have a dress uniform. If I start Darry on it now, it might be wrinkle free by the wedding."

"A dress uniform? I don't know, that might cancel out the dangerous vibe."

"Would it help that they only gave it to me because I was going home?"

Not that I wore it. I shoved it deep in my bag and tried to forget it was there.

"Why would that help?" she asked, straightening up as the bar came into sight.

"I was dead when they gave it to me," I replied, pulling up behind the bar beside Red's blue pickup truck. "On paper, at least."

"You know, sometimes I wonder about you."

"What's there to wonder about?" I asked.

"Whether you make up stories or if your life was really that terrible before I walked into it."

I smirked at her, not answering. She huffed and shook her head before opening her door and letting cold air into the car. I threw open my door and jogged into the bar, Dottie following me with a shake of her head.

"For a guy who is as tough as you're supposed to be, you're a wimp when it comes to the cold."

"Yeah, point out something I don't know."

I could barely leave the house without stomping my feet and shaking like a leaf. I just groused loudly and kept reminding myself that Greasers didn't shiver. My Greaser pride didn't matter much these days, but it was there to fall back on when I did need it. It helped me get used to the cold, even if I wasn't happy about it.

Dottie followed me into the warmth of the bar, tossing off her coat and looking flushed from the heat already. Me, I kept my coat on for a few minutes. This was Heaven. Red always did keep the bar a little too warm to be comfortable in so that people would get thirsty and drink more. I was probably the only one who worked there who didn't complain about that. Now, this would probably be the only place in the whole city I was going to be warm in until spring came, possibly summer. My blue lips thanked him from the bottom of my blue feet and everything that was also blue in between.

"Leave that back door open, will you?" Mrs. M called, fanning herself as she walked into the back room.

"No arguments here," Dottie called back. "The heat is insane!"

"Honey, around here, insane is a relative term. But this heat is at the top of the list," Mrs. M informed her. "And to tell you the truth, I know Red hates it. He's just too set in his ways to say anything."

"Makes more money this way," I offered, earning a snort from Dottie and a smile from Mrs. M.

"I keep forgetting this is the first cold weather you've felt in a couple years." She squeezed my arm affectionately and I could see the sweat under her styled bangs. "This snow must be hell for you."

"Thanks to your son, yeah," I replied with a shrug, still clutching my jacket around me as I worked to warm up.

"I don't even want to know what that boy did this morning. You keep it under your hat."

"Yes, ma'am," I replied.

"Well, I doubt Tarzan here is going to be taking off anytime soon, so I'm going to run to the diner for some take out. Anyone want a sandwich?"

"You know my usual," I called, walking out into the barroom to see what had to be done today.

Red was sitting at the bar, going over the stock up there. It was my job, but he trusted me about as far as he could throw me. I was sure that Red was probably about as old as my father would have been, had he lived. Still, he probably could have pitched me out of the door.

He glanced up at me and I nodded in greeting, getting an annoyed huff in return.

"You make this mess?" He asked and I shrugged.

"I didn't realize it was a mess," I replied, not seeing anything wrong with how I organized things.

"Watch it, Pup."

"Sure thing, Red," I replied, watching as he moved all the bottles back to the way he liked them when he was tending the bar.

I knew better than to argue with him. It was just easier to mess it up later and get the same lecture in a couple weeks when he got the bug up his ass to assert himself as top dog again. It irked me, but I knew how to handle myself without getting into too much trouble. These days, it was pretty easy to just keep my head down and go about my business. Even working the bar proved to be worry-free. In this cold, you had the diehard usuals and the poor bastards dumb enough to be wandering the streets and feeling the warmth radiating off the place. That usually meant no trouble at all.

I glanced up at the newest one to walk into the bar and took note of this fancy coat and his expensive hair cut. I wanted to ask what the hell he was doing in this neighbourhood, but I found that you made more money when you said nothing about where people came from.

"Brandy," he ordered, putting his gloves on the counter and rubbing his hands together like there was nothing in the world that would warm them up again, but he was determined to try.

I nodded and ducked down to see if we had any brandy. It wasn't your run of the mill liquor, like whiskey, bourbon, and vodka. Beer probably counted as liquor in here, thanks to the clientele, and we always had plenty hanging around. Brandy, not so much. That meant inventory on it was questionable. No one ever ordered the stuff, so we kept a very low stock. Fortunately, there was a bottle at the back that was half full and not covered in dust. I poured him a couple fingers worth in a rounded glass with a short stem and passed it over. The gentleman smiled and pushed a couple bills over the bar. I looked it up on the pad of paper beside the till and figured this guy was good for a tip with the change he was getting back and I was right when he waved off my attempt to give it back to him.

"Nothing warms you better than brandy," he commented after he had been nursing it for a while.

"I think it's the place and not the brandy," I replied, taking some clean glasses from Mrs. M and lining them up on the shelf.

"Can't argue with you there. I'm surprised you're not as sweaty as the wait staff is," he gestured to where Dottie was wiping her forehead with her elbow and Mrs. M was fanning herself again.

"I like the heat." I shrugged.

"I just got in from Mexico. It's summer down there for us. You can pick out the tourists by whose wearing shorts."

I smirked a little, thinking that was a bad way to put it. Either this guy was oblivious or he thought he was as funny as Dottie, because he kept right on talking.

"My friend Preston and I were going to spend our first summer out of law school down there together," he continued on while I counted glasses and patrons. "Then we were going to take over my dad's practice."

"Plans go downhill?" I asked and the guy's chuckle was laced with irony.

"Let's just say good old Pres never made it home one night."

"Sorry to hear that," I offered, knowing how to work for tips.

"Yep. So was everyone else. Poor, perfect little Preston –"

The guy opened his mouth to say something else, but my fist connected with it so fast it wasn't even funny. He hit the floor, brandy cup flying after him and spraying what little was left all over the floor when the glass broke. I didn't notice. I was over the side of the bar and reaching for the guy a moment later. He'd twisted onto his front to pull himself up and I had him right where I wanted him. My knee went to the small of his back and my arm went around his neck, ready to yank him back and snap both his neck and his lower back in one fluid movement. He'd be dead before he hit the floor.

I'd done this more times than I could count. With my training, I had him right where I wanted him. And for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why.

To Be Continued...

* * *

Yes, bad place to leave it, but bear with me. You definitely did not want 22 pages of this. I have it finished, it just needs an edit, so not too long a wait!

Any comments are welcome and flames accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!!!

Tens & Zickachik


	23. And Reason

Hi all! I know, it has been FOREVER. But this FINALLY got beta'd and I did not forget about it! So yay for me! Special thanks to Aerodynamics for this! She rocks my socks. And she changed her name to something else that is escaping my loopy mind. 5 stitches to my head! I'm allowed! :p

Anyways, without further adieu...

Disclaimer: The usual.

Chapter 23

It was like time had slowed down. I could feel his pulse, the strangled breath, the tension building in his frame as I began to pull him up. All it would take would be a good tug to snap his neck.

My hold on the guy loosened when Red's fist connected with the side of my head. I was drug off the guy when my grip relaxed in that painful few moments of confusion and stars exploding behind my eyes. Red had one hand twisted in my shirt collar and the other was pinning my left wrist between my shoulder blades as he calmly walked me towards the back of the bar. Me? I was twisting, snarling and trying to hit him as we moved. Everything in me was screaming to get back in there and kill this guy. I still didn't even know why. All I knew was that the killer instinct I'd developed in Nam was in the driver's seat, and there was nothing I could do about it until that instinct – that dark part of me – had its kill.

Red proved he could still toss me around the joint as he kicked open the back door and threw me onto the swept pavement behind the bar, watching as I skidded and scraped both my right arm and shoulder to hell. I barely registered the wound, shoving myself onto that arm so I could lunge at Red.

Suddenly, I was back on my ass, cold water spraying right into my face and chest. I was shocked into stillness, trying to crawl backward out of the cold spray. It was the middle of November, and the snow was sticking to my wet skin, making every part of me sting with the bitter temperatures.

Finally, the assault stopped, and I took in gasping breaths as I began to shake with cold and anger.

"You cooled off yet?" he asked, and I growled at him, ready to get up and punch his lights out for this.

Red aimed the hose at me again. It had a spray nozzle on it because this was where Red liked to wash his truck during the summer. With the nice weather, it was still hooked up to the sink inside. Just my luck. I twisted as the pressure from the hose cut into my skin and howled with how much the cold water hurt. Finally I couldn't do any more than curl up on the ground and shake. Red stopped with the hose again.

"Red," I sputtered out, feeling chills everywhere.

That seemed to be all Red needed. He picked up the hose and tossed it back in the back room before stalking over to me in a way that had me cowering. He hauled me up by my shirt front and gave me a good shake. I looked at him, and he held my gaze for a long moment before dragging me back into the building. I was tossed onto the stairs that led up to his apartment, and Red stood there, making it clear I wasn't supposed to move. I did shift so my arm wasn't pinned, but aside from that, I wasn't even sure I was breathing because I was trying to be so still.

"You listen to me Pup, and you listen good. If I ever see you take on a customer like that again, I'll kick you out of here so fast that your head'll spin before it hits the concrete. Get me?"

I nodded dumbly, more terrified than I ever remembered being in my whole life. That was saying something when I had been in fire fights, had my back up against the wall and felt like death was coming. This...this was something completely different. Whatever killer instinct had taken over before the hose was gone and now I was terrified. Red picked up on that. That man never missed a trick.

"You're gonna sit here and total up your figures for the night. If you move before I say you can, I'm going to beat you senseless, got me?"

I nodded again and watched as he stalked off towards the main bar room, forcing Mrs. M out of his way when he reached the doorway she was watching from. They had words, but I wasn't listening. I got told to do something and, I was going to do it. I reached into my apron for the list I had going with trembling hands, pulling it out and wondering how I was supposed to write legibly with the way my hand was going. The pad was a little wet, but not nearly as wet as I was. My jeans were wet, my socks were soaked, and my t-shirt was literally a part of my skin now. But it could have been worse. I'd decide how later.

Right then I had a bunch of figures to add up. It took me a while to get it done since I had to write down all the numbers instead of doing it in my head like I normally would. I just couldn't focus on anything. I kept seeing that idiot at the bar. I was barely listening to his words, but something he said about his friend had me seeing red. I wasn't even sure why. Whatever it was had been bad enough to almost kill the guy. I would have killed him.

My hand shook a little more as I wrote on the page. I stopped, just clutching the pad, trying to think about why I would kill that guy. Nothing was coming and it was frustrating and terrifying. I was cold, wet, and going out of my mind trying to figure out why I would do something like that.

There was a flurry of movement in the bar room a while later, and I tried to listen for what was going on. I finally managed to wrench my gaze away from the floor long enough to take in that there were uniforms on the two men standing in the doorway to the bar room, keeping an eye on me. Great. The Fuzz was the last thing I needed. But they were a lot less intimidating than the man I called boss right about now.

One of the men in the doorway left and the other kept staring at me, even though I had gone back to just watching the floor as I shook and shivered with cold.

"I knew it!"

I glanced up at the familiar voice and watched as Detective Pripich beamed in the doorway.

"When I heard the news on the scanner, I said to myself, 'Ricky boy, that report makes so little sense that it had to be Pepsi Curtis or Dallas Winston causing the trouble.' But then I had to remind myself that Dallas Winston took a couple bullets back in '66. That left you. And here you are." He was smiling like there was no tomorrow. "So, Curtis, why did you decide to give me such a great gift? I thought you were sticking to your story about being reformed and staying out of trouble."

I couldn't answer him, so I didn't. I just looked back at the floor and listened as he droned on and on about how he was going to lock me away and throw away the key. I knew nothing was ever that simple, and I didn't bother responding to scare tactics. He had been using them on Dallas and me since I could remember. You got immune to that kind of thing after a while.

Warm hands finally shook me out of the daze I'd drifted off to while I had been watching the floor and ignoring Pripich. I met O'Toole's confused grey eyes and looked back down at the floor.

"God, lad, you're freezing," he commented, rubbing my arms, stopping when his left hand came away bloody from the scrapes on my right arm. It didn't even hurt. "Someone do this to you?"

"No. Fell," I told him, and he didn't look like he believed that. Well, it was at least somewhat true.

"And you fell into a puddle too, did you?"

"Hose," I rasped, seeing Pripich wasn't in the doorway anymore and the uniform had turned so his back was to us.

"What happened with the hose?" he asked with a frown.

"Boss," I forced out between chattering teeth.

"The same boss who let you sit here, I'd reckon. Here, let me get my coat off so you can have it," he urged. "That means you have to let go."

I looked at where my right hand was wrapped in his jacket tightly. I tried to let go, but I only held on tighter.

"Pepsi. You're going to get sick if you sit here like this."

I unclenched my numb fingers slowly and watched as another man who was the same age as my father took on the role. I didn't think my dad would ever do to me what Red had, but at the same time, I could see the fatherly gesture to it. It was kind of like something Dallas' dad would do to him—if he ever gave a hang about Dallas, that is. The soft coat that settled around my shoulders was more like something my own father would do. O'Toole pulled it tight around me and rubbed my arms until I winced at the pain it was causing my right arm. At least the feeling was coming back after lord knows how long I spent shaking on the stairs.

"Now, you know what you did in there was wrong, lad, even though there was no harm or foul in the end. What no one seems to be able to tell us is why you went after that man."

I shook my head, leaning into the arm he'd thrown around my shoulders in an attempt to keep me warm. How did I tell him that I didn't know? How could I tell him my instincts had reared up and I'd followed?

"Come on, son. I might be able to convince them to let this be the end of it if you give me a good reason."

I shook my head again, but tried. I told him what happened and how I wasn't in control of anything. He listened quietly while I rambled through my story and looped around whenever I tried to reason it out.

"But what exactly did he say, son?" O'Toole prompted. "What was the last thing he said before you leapt the bar?"

"Something about Preston, his friend," I said with a frown as O'Toole seemed to stiffen. "What? You know this Preston guy?"

"Charlie! What is the name of the man pressing charges?" O'Toole called to the uniform in the doorway.

"Hold on a sec. You got this?" Charlie asked, nodding at me, and O'Toole returned it. Charlie disappeared into the bar room and came back a moment later. "Hughes. Fred Hughes."

O'Toole sighed and rubbed my arm a little harder. I couldn't look at him. Whoever this Hughes guy was, it was big.

"You asked me about your case once," O'Toole started. "I told you it was sealed, but after that talk, I looked into it. Preston Williams was the name of the boy who died that night. And it was Fred Hughes' father who made the mess go away and pressed for the trial to be in Oklahoma City in front of the State judiciary."

I closed my eyes and tried to will away the wave of nausea that followed that statement. I didn't remember him or his father – or Preston, for that matter. I didn't even remember the name of my own lawyer. Still, the way Fred had talked about him had just pissed me off on a level I didn't even know existed outside of the jungle. Still, even there, I had some control. I said as much to O'Toole who nodded and patted my arm.

"It's alright, son. It makes sense to me and, I'll go explain it to the gentlemen in the other room. For now, you work on warming up. That's all you have to worry about right now."

I nodded and burrowed deeper into the coat. And it was probably right in that moment my rep would have gone out the window if there had been a single Greaser around. I thought it was funny that was the only thing I was worried about in all this. O'Toole told me to worry about one thing and I was doing my best. It sounded like good advice.

'_One thing at a time, Curtis_' that little voice in the back of my head soothed. _'And don't forget to breathe.'_

/-/-/-/-/-

The next morning I woke up in my own bed instead of the jail cell I had been expecting. I couldn't remember anything after the moment O'Toole told me the name of the first person who ever died by my hands. Everything turned into a blur. I was home, though. That much I knew and that much was alright by me.

I was also warm. I didn't understand how that could be the case since last night I was pretty sure I was going to die of hypothermia or something. Maybe I'd just gone and dreamed the whole day. Maybe I'd never run out into the snow and later got in trouble at work. Maybe I hit my head at the barn and dreamed everything from the burnt chicken onwards.

Who was I kidding? My luck was never that good.

I shifted in the bed, feeling the rubber of a hot water bottle under my feet and another one tucked against my side. They were cool to the touch, obviously having been there for a while. I pushed the one on my side to the floor, hearing the rubber smack against the carpet. It had the instant effect of something banging down the hall and bare feet thundering from somewhere around the kitchen. A moment later, the footsteps stopped outside my room and Soda was shoving the door open as quietly as the old hinges would let him. This had been Soda's room for years, and he knew what he was doing because the door was nearly silent when it finally opened. He'd have to teach me that trick. But I didn't see the point of the quiet door when he had made so much noise coming down the hall in the first place. It was one of those random Soda moments, I guess.

"Are you alright? What fell?" Soda asked, looking like he hadn't slept all night and it was getting to him. Soda always was a little batty when he was over tired.

"Bottle," I replied, voice gruff and throat tender.

"It's probably cold by now. Are you cold?" Soda asked, and I shook my head. "Because I can put on more water..."

"Its fine, Soda," I replied, sitting up against the wall.

I winced when my right shoulder pressed against the hard surface and glanced at where the arm was all bandaged up. Darry'd been busy, I guess.

"You scraped your arm. And your shoulder. Darry was so mad about that. And that you were wet. He kept going on about it being November," Soda rattled off as he shifted from foot to foot in the doorway. "Then we had to bring you home and the heater was frizzing in and out, and you were so out of it that you didn't even mind being squished between Pony and me. Then Darry went and got you more wet with a shower. You're probably never going to get wet again after last night."

"Yeah," I put in, since Soda looked like he was waiting for me to say something. I was kinda glad he was rambling since I didn't remember any of it.

"I think he was going to kill your boss. He probably would have if your detective hadn't been there smoothing everything out."

"I'll bet," I sighed.

Soda fidgeted from foot to foot again and, I struggled to think of something to say.

"Uh...Did you stay up with me?" I chanced, and Soda nodded, coming to sit on the far side of the bed. I could practically feel the energy pulsing off him now that he was so close.

"You were cold. Darry talked about skin and hypothermia, so I cuddled up in here with you."

I nodded. It was probably a good idea. We got a talk about hypothermia in basic training. The extremities froze first and then the core. You had to re-heat the body gradually or cold blood from the limbs would rush back to the heart and shock it. Body heat was best. Darry knew that. Darry also knew Soda was like a barnacle. He literally attached himself to whoever he was sharing a bed with, thus leading to the bed fiasco that had Pony not sleeping.

"Thanks...for that," I offered, sounding as awkward as I felt about cuddling with anyone – let alone my brother – even though I knew it was a good idea.

"You fell asleep as soon as you got warm. And once you fell asleep, you screamed."

All the energy looked like it left Soda then. He was giving me the most compassionate look I could imagine, and I resisted the urge to fidget under a stare like that.

"Sorry," I offered, understanding why my throat hurt so much now.

Soda didn't have anything to say to that, picking at the pilling blanket that had been added to the mass amount on my bed. I shoved off most of them before getting to my feet. Soda sent me a worried look, and I sighed.

"Unless there's some magic twin thing that makes it so you can piss for me, I'm going to the bathroom," I told him.

"Well, would you at least put some pants on? Maybe a shirt?" Soda suggested.

He had a point; I didn't really like walking around the house in my underwear. You never knew who was going to drop by. I didn't even want to know how I got stripped down and into clean shorts. Right about now, it wasn't something I needed to focus on. I just nodded, figuring it would make Soda happy if I put on some clothes. Soda was probably thinking more about keeping warm than what our friends would think, though. He handed me the heaviest sweater I had ever seen. It had been Dad's. He used to go hunting in it when he planned to be gone for a few nights in the fall. I really didn't want to wear it, but Soda got a little batty when he wasn't sleeping, and in turn, his feelings seemed to get bruised a hell of a lot easier than you'd imagine. So I put on the damn sweater, roughly tugged on my jeans, and walked out into the hallway. I didn't bother to pause until the bathroom door was closing sharply behind me and I was leaning over the sink so I could get a good look at myself.

To put it as eloquently as possible, I looked like death warmed over. The more than healthy tan I had from Nam was completely washed out this morning by the paleness of my skin. There were dark circles under my eyes, and I looked tired just like Soda did. What made it worse was the damn sweater. Everyone always told Soda and I that we looked exactly like Mom. But this sweater made me think otherwise. Wearing it, I could pull Dad's features from my face. My nose and jaw were his, the set of my eyes were even familiar, minus the crinkles he had around them from laughing every day. Everything else was my mother. The stern set to my lips, the defined cheekbone. Even the hint of dimple when I bothered to smile. Soda looked more like her, though. They were both open people and it showed. A smart girl I knew once had rattled on about introverts and extroverts, so maybe that was it, but it didn't matter. What did matter was getting out of the damn sweater before I drove myself nuts. Soda would just have to deal with it.

Once I had the sweater off, I twisted so I could see my shoulder in the mirror. Sort of. I couldn't see much because I was so stiff, but what I could see was that part of my tattoo was covered up, along with most of my upper-right shoulder. I groaned a little. As much as I had never wanted the thing in the first place, it was something I did with Dal while we were being drunk and stupid. If I lost it, it would be another bit of him gone. I glanced at the scars on my left shoulder from Windrexville and figured that it would have to do for a permanent reminder.

I couldn't decide if my arm was in better shape than my shoulder or not. The skin was purple from my elbow up. The bruising only ended where the bandage started. It hurt to move it, mostly because of the bandages restricting the skin, but there was pain in the joint, too. That was probably from landing on it. Damn, I owed Red an ass kicking once I was healed up. Job or no job, no one did this to a Curtis without taking a couple licks of their own.

'_Yeah, you do that, Curtis. Keep in mind he was the only one in the whole city willing to hire you.'_

I was too tired to bother flipping off the little voice in my head. Instead, I flipped up the toilet seat and got down to business.

When I finally walked into the kitchen, Pony was sitting at the table while Soda and Darry were working on breakfast. Soda took one look at me, and I could feel the hurt rolling off him. I saw that one coming.

"Sweater got wet," I lied. "Sorry, Soda."

Soda seemed to take that well. He just shrugged and offered to go get me something else to wear. I turned him down, sitting at the table stiffly and accepting the cup of coffee Darry brought over.

"What's the damage, Darry?" I asked after a few sips. "Is my tattoo going to heal fine or do I need to get re-inked?"

"Should be fine. It was just scraped up a little. Most of the damage was on the shoulder blade and right on the arm joint," Darry replied. "And even if it was scraped off, would you bother with another tattoo?"

I shrugged. I never thought about it. The boys coming out of basic had all gotten tattoos, but at that point I was marked up enough to last me a life time. Then there was Nam. Aside from the leech scar on my chest and the bad gash on my calf, I was missing skin on one of my shins and there was a square patch of burned skin that had turned into a nasty scar on my side. I rubbed at the burn scar absently, feeling how the skin was depressed there, hard like scar tissue tended to get. Yeah, I didn't need any other marks.

"Listen. We have to talk about what happened last night," Darry sighed, setting breakfast down in front of both Pony and I.

I nodded, looking at the bowl of oatmeal steaming in front of me. Yeah, it was winter alright. Darry only bothered when it was cold out. And just like eggs, we all had our ways of eating it. Soda liked Maple syrup and chunks of apple in his. Pony was all for a splash of milk and cinnamon, while Darry was a milk and brown sugar lover. I liked mine plain and over cooked if I could get it that way. And that was just the way Darry cooked it.

It was another minute before we were all sitting at the table with food. It was quiet, but Darry was staring at me. Well, he should have known by now that if he wanted to have this conversation, he was going to have to start it. Me? I was happy enough to just sit there, scooping up the sticky mess and watching for how long it would take to drop off the spoon and back into the bowl.

"Will you at least try it?" Darry asked,

I sighed and tipped what was left of my coffee into the bowl, scrambling it in with the chunks of oatmeal until it was all mixed in. Darry looked like he going to get irritable with me until I finally decided to at least try my breakfast. Soda was going at his food at about the same pace, while Pony was practically licking the bottom of his bowl. At least someone was enjoying the food.

"What about last night, Darry?" I finally sighed, putting my spoon down after a couple fair sized bites Darry had carefully supervised.

"I spoke with Tom O'Toole when we came to get you," Darry started, and took a sip from his coffee cup. "He managed to talk you out of some trouble last night, but there were two conditions."

"Great," I sighed. "How many hours?"

Usually, conditions meant something along the lines of time at the seniors' home, cleaning for whatever business got damaged while you were causing trouble, or sitting with a counsellor once a week so you could figure out exactly how much of a screw up you were that month. I knew how this went. O'Toole was famous for finding us something to do before anything ever reached a judge. He claimed that it made less paperwork on his end, thus it was worth it to keep up from getting an official punishment from some irritated judge. As much as I hated to admit it, the man was pretty sharp.

"Well, this time around, there really weren't any set hours," Soda offered, looking fixated with his breakfast. "It'll be for as long as you...need it."

"He doesn't need it!" Pony spoke up, anger in his tone. "He doesn't even want to talk to us, let alone some doctor! And he shouldn't have to!"

I didn't like the sound of that one bit. I glared at Darry and nudged him under the table with my foot so he couldn't ignore me. He sighed, straightening up in his chair.

"We need to set you up with a psychiatrist next week. The deal is that if you talk to a professional for a couple hours every week, the guy won't file an official report," Darry explained. "And, to tell you the honest truth, I think it's a good idea."

I was being forced to talk to a stranger who was going to pick apart everything I said and did, and he _thought it was a good idea_? I thought I had made it pretty damn clear I didn't want to talk to anyone about Nam. He knew what I did and he wanted me to tell someone outside the family we didn't even know? Christ...

"I think it's a good deal, considering that the last time you got mixed up with that Hughes guy, you ended up in Vietnam for over a year," Darry clarified, and I didn't bother arguing with him there.

"What's the other condition?" I sighed.

"That you don't come within fifty feet of that kid again," Darry replied, and I nodded. That was something I was willing to go along with. "I figured that would be easy enough."

I nodded. Yeah, it was fine. It was the whole 'talking to a stranger' bit I didn't like. They all knew that, but Darry had pretty much made the deal to keep me from an assault charge that would probably land me in the cooler for a long time, if not back in freaking Nam...

"I should have just killed him." I shook my head. "Living out the rest of my days in Canada's gotta be easier than this."

Ponyboy snorted loudly, obviously finding my comment funny. I smirked at the kid, glad he was on my side about this doctor business. Darry gave me a stern look, clearly saying he didn't think that was funny. It was Soda who smacked my left arm.

"If you ever flee the country, you'd damn well better go to Mexico," he told me sternly. "Stevie won't come with me to visit if you're all the way up in Canada."

"Yes, Sir," I replied with a nod. Like I said, he was batty when he got over tired, and I wasn't about to argue with him.

"Well, as long as we're clear." Soda got up to set his plate in the sink. "I think I'm going to go back to bed. Ponyboy can get you sweaters and hot water bottles and blankets for a while."

He wandered off, muttering something else about Canada that had me shaking my head. I tried to clear my throat to make the annoying tickle that had suddenly appeared go away, but that just made things worse. The small coughing fit that followed was proof of that. Great. I hoped I wasn't getting sick. I hated being sick. I was still wheezing a bit as Darry set a cup of water down in front of me. He kept his hand over it for a moment, giving me a serious look.

"You'd better not have any reason to run, because Canada, Mexico or otherwise, I'll still find you and skin you for being stupid."

I nodded as I gulped back the water, seeing Darry's threat for the brotherly concern it was. Yeah, hopefully this would be the last time I got in trouble. I shook my head at myself this time. My luck just was never that good.

"So, what about work?" I asked Pony, shoving my oatmeal in his direction.

"I'm not eating that," he informed me, picking up my bowl and his own to wash in the sink. "And your boss said you could come back on Monday."

I groaned. The weekend was the best time for tips. This was a punishment, not down time to heal up. I knew it, Red knew it, and I was willing to bet that even Pony could sense that. I just had to keep reminding myself that it beat jail time.

"Any other good news you want to tell me?"

"Not really, but you should know Dottie has the keys to the T-Bird," Darry offered. "I assume she's taking your car until Monday, too."

I had to hand it to Dottie. She certainly could take care of herself. But I'd have it back in a few days since I was sure the car had gremlins in the engine. It was probably just the fact Buck would sooner give it away than ever have it serviced. Until then, I was going to be stuck in the house, and even when she did bring it back, I really had nowhere to go until I could move my arm higher than mid-waist level without pain. I hoped it was up to snuff by Monday, because I was going back to work, even if it killed me.

Pony left the room as Darry dried the dishes. It would normally have been me doing the drying, since Darry and Soda cooked, and then Pony washed, but I guess I had a free pass today. TV was on a moment later, and Darry hollered for Pony to keep it down. I suddenly wondered why he wasn't at school, but didn't bother asking because my kid brother had the right idea. Kicking back and watching some TV sounded like a great plan. I could use a couple days of just lying on the couch and watching westerns.

Maybe something good could come out of this after all.

* * *

Yay! Another chapter down. The next one is a lot of fun.

Any comments at all are welcome and flames accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!!!

Tens


	24. Colds and Creaky Couches

I'm feeling kinda crazy, so why not?

Well, it's been a LONG time for this one...That's all on me. Well, me or Pepsi. We've been going through the new baby thing – you know where you get a new character and the old one has a tiff over it for a year or so and won't let you write his story... Yeah. But, here is a jump off into an attempt at an update! Hopefully it lives up to any standards!

Thanks go out to everyone who has asked after this story. It's nice to know there's still some interest!

To remind you all of what's going on:

Our story started with Pepsi coming back from Vietnam where he was sentenced in lieu of prison after the death of a man he can't remember killing. After finding things had changed at home, he takes a job at The Silver Slipper bar where Mrs. Mathews works. However, it is clear that his experiences from the war, and his missing memories from the murder are not sitting well with him. He is withdrawn, and at odds with most of the people around him. It all comes to a head when he nearly murdered Fred Hughes at the bar one night for no apparent reason. In one last ditch effort to keep out of trouble, Pepsi is forced into therapy.

And now you're all caught up! Wow, that was fun! Now, on with the shoe!

Disclaimer: The Usual.

Chapter 24 – Colds and Creaky Couches

I already hated this. I didn't need to go in there and have a session to know this was the worst idea anyone had ever had. So far, we hadn't gotten past the waiting room. We were fifteen minutes early because Darry knew that we wouldn't be on time unless he started getting us all going an hour before hand.

And by we, I do mean all of us. The whole family had to come for the first powwow, apparently. I didn't see the point. They knew I was messed up, and they weren't the ones who had to sit with this guy and let him pick apart their heads. But I was done trying to make a protest about all this. No one was listening, and no one was going to get me out of it. So I figured I might as well just get through it.

Soda was sitting beside me on the couch, fidgeting, and pulling at a hole in his best jeans. Darry sent him a dirty look every time he did that, clearly not impressed with the distraction the movements made. He was sitting across from us in a chair that looked like it had just been purchased out of the Sears catalogue, reading through one of the newspapers from off the dark coloured coffee table. Pony was doing a good impression of a wall flower off to Darry's right. He was keeping his eyes on the clock, looking for all the world like he was going to walk out if he had to wait any longer. I knew that look. He always got like that when he didn't want to be somewhere and Darry 'insisted'.

As for me, I was busy looking around the office, mainly at the walls. There was a lot of impressionist art. That made me positive the guy was a Soc. Not that the paint, fancy furniture, and the fact he had a degree didn't give that away already. The art, though – it just made it more real. It was expensive. This guy clearly made a lot of money, and that worried me. My therapy was pro-bono since the guy was friends with O'Toole, but under normal circumstances, we wouldn't be able to afford this. We wouldn't have made it past the front door of the building. As it was, we made the primly kept space look...dirty.

The receptionist clearly didn't like that. She kept glaring at us – mainly at Pony – because of it. Or maybe she knew we were going to be making more work for her. Whatever it was, she didn't want us there. I didn't want us there. Too bad our votes would be counted dead last, if they ever got counted, period.

I fidgeted, sniffing and feeling restless. After my run in with the hose last Thursday night, Red had made me take off the entire weekend as punishment for making trouble in his bar. It had the added bonus of giving me one hell of a cold. I had been in bed most of the weekend, and it had only taken three stuffed up words over the phone for Mrs. M. to make me take Monday off, too. I'd struggled through the rest of the week, probably earning that 'Puppy' nickname with how I was being fawned over by the girls. Dottie and Mrs. M. were going to mother this thing out of me, even if it killed me. Red was ignoring the fact anything had happened last week, and I was grateful. I was never any good at fitting into places, but I was comfortable in the bar – even after what happened – and I don't think I could have bared it if Red decided to either kick me out or treat me even worse. I knew he might have regretted hosing me down or leaving me to sit in my wet clothing, but he wasn't sorry about it, and any points being sick had earned me were going to be out the window when I was better. It was Friday now, and I was still having the odd sniff or coughing fit. This was one of those colds that just wouldn't go away.

I rubbed at my nose, annoyed that I had to itch it – again. I had been very still since we'd sat down, taking my sniper training as a guide for situations like this. The secret was to focus on something benign and shut down so you didn't move. Most people tensed up, but that just found you getting muscle cramps at inopportune moments. I chose to focus on that damn expensive art, but I hadn't been able to shut down. I couldn't remember dreading something more in my entire life than I was dreading talking to this doctor, and the fact my nose was alternating between stuffed up and runny didn't help things.

After what seemed like an eternity, a man in a suit came out of the office, and walked past us like we were part of the decor. He left, so he probably wasn't the doc. I could hope, though. A moment later, a man in a knit sweater-vest came out of the same room. He looked over us all and offered a warm smile. He had a bald spot that was taking over his head, but it looked like he thought that growing a moustache would make up for it. I could already tell he was an idiot.

"Curtis family," he greeted. "I'm Doctor Peter Frank. Won't you please join me in my office?"

Everyone shifted to get up, except me. Soda was on his feet, waiting. I let him. He finally sighed, grabbed my left arm, and tugged so I had to either follow the movement or fall over. I stood, glaring at him as he herded me towards the office.

The office was every bit as fancy as the waiting room, except the couch looked a lot older than the leather one that had squeaked and creaked under Soda and I while we'd waited. This one looked more comfortable. The leather chairs were meant to be around the large wood desk, but they had been pulled over to where the couch and another chair had been positioned around a coffee table. The table looked like it was the twin of the one in the waiting room, only missing all the papers and magazines that had been on the first.

Doctor Frank was gesturing for us all to sit while he looked for something on his desk. Darry took one of the chairs, while Pony and Soda both thought it was a good idea to squish me between them on the couch. Pony was taller than us now, carrying more in his shoulders than either Soda or me. It made sitting on the couch with him a bit difficult.

Doctor Frank sat in one of the remaining chairs, a pad of paper on one of his knees. He looked over us, seemingly relaxed, while we were all sitting there with our guards up and ready to fight. Yeah, a definite Soc.

"Well, it is so nice to see everyone could make it here for the first session."

I wanted to tell him that we had a couple more brothers named Steve and Two-Bit who weren't here, but I didn't feel like talking to this guy, even if it was to be a smart mouth.

"You must be Darrel," he gestured to Darry who nodded. "The tall one must be Ponyboy. And then Sodapop and Pepsi-cola are the twins."

He said this all as if it was highly fascinating to him. I was glad someone was getting something out of all this. His eyes landed on me, telling me he knew exactly who I was. Good, that meant there was no point in talking. I wanted to get up and leave. Only the warmth of Soda and Pony's shoulders kept me where I was. It was cold everywhere, except in the bar. I'd soak up warmth wherever I could get it.

"Tom told me what to expect, but it is great to have you all here in front of me. I look forward to working with you all."

Working with us all? Oh, now I was feeling very confident in his abilities...

"Like I said, I am Doctor Peter Frank, but feel free to call me Pete. I was born and raised in Tulsa, but I went to Houston for my psychology degree. I specialize in counselling war veterans."

I was really starting to get unimpressed with this guy. I wasn't here for my Nam experiences. It did make me wonder if he'd ever had anything to do with O'Toole and Dad in this setting.

"I can imagine you're all wondering why I asked the entire family here today. It's a policy of mine that the family members of those I counsel come in on the first day so that they can offer their opinions and support to the process."

I wondered if everyone he counselled was beyond help, or if their families had submitted them for torture...

Pony snorted beside me when Frank mentioned that the family should 'support' the process. He hadn't changed his mind on the whole therapy bit. I was grateful for his solidarity, but Darry was glaring at him. Darry hadn't changed his mind, either. It was useless to try to change it for him.

Frank, for his part, looked amused by it.

"Why don't you start us off, Ponyboy?" He invited.

"Well, sir. We're here," he offered and Darry was giving him that _'when I can yell at you, I'm going to let you have it' _look. I was surprised it wasn't aimed at me for once. "And we're only here because we have to be."

Well, I'd say one thing for my kid brother – when he made his mind up, he really made it up.

"Pony, he almost killed someone," Soda sighed.

"Then the guy was asking for it," Pony dismissed.

I felt like sighing. Hughes hadn't asked for anything. I was willing to bet he was still puzzling over why I had tried to kill him. That made two of us.

"Ponyboy," Darry warned.

"It's alright," Frank interjected. "I did ask for him to express his opinion."

"We have to be here. Do you want Pepsi to try and kill someone else?" Darry asked Pony, ignoring Frank.

"No, I don't want that. I just think we can take care of it how we handle everything else in our family – on our own."

"Guys, please," Soda got in the middle, like he always did.

I was starting to feel like I wasn't in the room. From the way they were just arguing about me, it was a safe assumption they had forgotten I was there, too.

"But you want us to handle this like we have been handling everything since Mom and Dad died." Darry shook his head. "Look how well that turned out."

"What I don't like is the idea of some stranger coming in and thinking he can fix our problems," Pony stated, and Darry eyed him like he was very trying.

"You want to be involved," Frank interrupted again. "Understandable. That was another reason why I wanted you all here today. I will only see Pepsi two hours a week, but I hope that they will be influential hours. And hopefully now that you've met me, you will all be at ease with this."

I felt like huffing. Who cared if they were comfortable with all this?

"Now, I can clearly see that you are all here for the same thing – to see your brother get better," he paused, studying me for a moment. "But that's one thing that gets construed in my line of work. I do not believe your brother is ill. I just believe that there are some things in his mind that need to be sorted out."

We were all quiet there. Since this whole thing had been suggested, everyone had been looking at me and treating me like I was ill. I expected the shrink to be right on that band wagon. I still thought he was an idiot, but maybe he was an idiot with the right idea.

It seemed like no time at all before we'd been there for an hour – Darry and Pony arguing the whole time, while Soda and I sat there watching. Frank threw in the odd question, and Soda tried to keep everyone civil, but the whole thing was just all around a bad idea.

"Alright," Frank spoke up when the hour officially hit, looking at the clock. "I think it would be a good idea if I had some time to talk to Pepsi-cola – alone, please. You may all wait in the receiving room. It was great to meet you all."

Darry and Pony kinda gaped at him, so caught up in arguing that they had only used his questions to fuel their debate. Soda was looking at me like he was anxious to leave me alone. I just sniffed a bit, wishing I could breathe properly.

It only took a couple moments for my brothers to leave the room. Frank looked more relaxed – or perhaps relieved – as he settled back into his chair, flipping his pad of paper to a fresh page.

"You have a very dynamic family," Frank stated, and I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not. "I really feel like I understand their personalities after seeing them all together here."

I stayed quiet, just watching Frank as he jotted down a few more things and finally looked up at me.

"So, why don't you tell me about yourself?" he suggested and I cleared my throat a bit.

"You heard it all from them," I dismissed.

"Something tells me I really haven't."

I gave him an even look. If I had my way, that wasn't going to change. "Your move, Doc."

Frank smiled a little, leaning back in his chair. "Alright."

After another half an hour, I felt like the guy knew more about me than I did – fact wise. I knew he was saving the big guns for later. Still, I felt picked apart. When we finally left, I didn't feel like there were words left, either. My brothers picked up on it, and the four of us drove home silently. Darry was driving, while Soda and Pony were in the back seat. That left me to curl up against the door of the T-Bird and just be miserable.

I knew I could only be miserable as long as I was in the car, so I was going to soak it up. When we got home, Darry was going to want to talk. He always wanted to talk, and if he didn't Soda would. But mostly, I had work later, and I couldn't go in there miserable.

Since the night I had almost killed Hughes, there were stories flying around like mad. I'd heard everything from where I had killed Hughes and had been hauled off by the Socs, to where I'd kidnapped Hughes and was slowly torturing him to death. It didn't matter what the story was, only that it had the effect of making trouble non-existent in the bar because everyone was so worried I was going to kill them. Red didn't seem to mind. He'd staked his territory the same night and managed to put me in my place all in one go. It was tough to deal with, so I didn't say anything. They could think what they wanted, and it would be no skin off my back.

So I sat in the car, soaking up the time to be miserable, and wanting to be home already. Because the worst part about all of this? It was just the beginning. There was more to come and it was only going to get harder every time I went.

* * *

Well, that was one of the few times I have ever struggled to make six pages! Hopefully that means I've suffered enough and stuff flows from now on!

Any comments at all are welcome and flames are accepted.

See ya in the funny papers!

Tens


End file.
